They All Lived Story 24: Alchemists and Generals
by LadyWordsmith
Summary: A coup d'etat in Aerugo leaves Amestrian civilians trapped within the country's borders. Given few options, Amestris' military goes in to get their people back and to deal with the self-proclaimed 'new government.' Herein is the account of the Aerugo War.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Many parts.... just keep checking. ;) This is a much longer war than the Drachman Border Dispute or the Xing War.

* * *

**September 5th, 1951**

The house was unusually quiet when Alphonse got home that evening. "Where is everyone?" he asked Elicia when he found her in the kitchen making dinner. Neither of the children were in evidence.

"Still out," Elicia chuckled as she checked the chicken roasting in the oven. "I'm sure Will and Alyse will be home soon, but they both have a lot of school activities now, and those do take up time."

"You would know better than I," Al nodded. That was something he had never actually experienced. Elicia's more traditional upbringing meant she knew more about what was normal in their children's lives some days than he did; especially when it came to Alyse. Will's life meant a lot more sense to Al. His daughter's new-found social experiences were an entirely different matter! It was only one week into her first year as a high school student, and Al was already fretting about the rest of it. "I never had any idea just how many things there were for kids to do outside of well... real work I guess." He knew some of what he and Ed had missed out on, but there seemed to be even more to do now than when they were kids. Or perhaps Resembool had just never felt the need to incorporate all of those things into their schooling. Privately, Al had few complaints at this point about 'missing out' on a traditional education.

"You'll catch on quick," Elicia smiled and went back to tossing the salad. "Would you set the table please?"

"Of course," Al replied and went to get the plates.

As Elicia had predicted, as soon as the table was set and food coming out of the oven, the front door opened and Alyse and Will came into the room. "We're home!" Alyse was all smiles as she set her shoulder bag down by the couch before joining them at the table.

"Well that took a while," Al commented casually.

"Tell me about it," Will groaned as he dropped into his chair. "Little miss butterfly here couldn't be bothered to leave on time."

"I had a meeting," Alyse sniffed as she sat down and placed her napkin properly in her lap.

"More like three," Will countered.

"What were these for?" Elicia asked with interest as she served them all and then sat down to eat herself.

"Social Committee, Volleyball Team, and Class Officers," Alyse beamed at that last one. "We had class elections this week. I'm Vice President!"

"That's wonderful," Elicia beamed. "So I guess you'll be really busy this year."

"Congratulations," Al smiled, though he felt a little stunned. In the first week Alyse had tried out for the school's volleyball team and -unsurprisingly given how Al had seen her play on their family vacation over the summer - made it easily. She had also joined the school's social committee, which planned dances and other events and also the fundraisers for the students to do all those interesting things. Then there were the philosophy club and the cooking club. Al had to wonder when his daughter was going to study. But then, she had always been an A student, so he was sure she would manage.

"Thanks, and yes," Alyse nodded. "We have so many things to get done before the fall dance and our first volleyball game is in two weeks."

As she rattled off the details, with Elicia listening, Al tuned out some of the general chatter and focused on food and his son. "So how was your day?" he asked.

"Long," Will replied, "But not bad. This year we aren't going to be reading any more Drachman literature, so I figure it's already an improvement. Classes don't look any harder than last year really. The only boring part was waiting for Alyse to get done because I promised Mom." He looked irritated, but at least he had kept his promise. Al knew that as much as Will loved his sister, they were two very different people; even more so as they got older and their interests - other than alchemy - diverged considerably. Even with alchemy they had very different focuses.

"Well I appreciate it," Al replied with a smile.

Will chuckled. "Yeah. With me around the guys don't stare as openly."

"So when you go off to college I'll just have to lock Alyse up in a tower somewhere, right?" Al joked.

"Might be safest. Fewer broken hearted boys in Central that way," Will commented facetiously. They continued talking while the girls gabbed on, the topic shifting quickly to alchemy on Al and Will's part.

It was only later, as Alyse went to get up from the table and help clear, that Al realized what his daughter was actually _wearing:_ it was a cute ensemble perhaps - or so Al surmised given Alyse was known for having great taste - with a dark-rose colored three-quarter length knit top worn open over a cream shirt and a lighter rose colored skirt. What bothered Al though, was the _length_ of the skirt! "You wore that to school?" he blurted out, too surprised to hold his tongue.

Alyse paused, turned, and shrugged. "Yes, I did." She looked puzzled.

"Who the heck let you out the door in that thing?" Al wasn't used to losing his calm, but the idea of every teenage boy in the school seeing that much of his daughter's legs was more than a little nerve-wracking.

"I did," Elicia said, unexpectedly calm. "Relax, Alphonse."

Will had one hand over his mouth and was obviously trying very hard not to laugh at the stunned expression Al was sure he had on his face. "Oh," was all Al could think of to say to that.

"You're so silly," Alyse giggled and went back to clearing.

Al didn't say anything else about it while they cleaned up after dinner and then the kids vanished to their rooms to do their homework. As soon as the living room was empty except for himself and Elicia though, he brought it up again. "I can't believe you let her wear something that short to school."

Elicia looked up at him with amusement. "You didn't mind when Winry wore them like that, or when_ I_ did."

"It's not the same thing," Al tried to argue, but he knew he was going to lose this one. As soon as Elicia made her point, he could visualize what she meant. Winry had worn the same style of skirt for years. Of _course_ it hadn't bothered Al. He had never given much thought to what Winry wore other than that it looked nice on her. On Elicia, well, he had always rather_ liked_ the style. That was why it bothered him to see his daughter in it, he supposed. Al knew only too well what kind of attention his daughter was likely getting.

Elicia kissed his cheek. "You're starting to sound worse than Mom's stories," she teased him. "It's cute, but you should lighten up a little. Alyse is a smart girl. Do you really think that, no matter how popular she is, she's going to be outsmarted by some teenage boy?"

"It's not outsmarted I'm worried about," Al grumbled. "She seems to enjoy the attention."

"As any smart, beautiful girl should," Elicia replied. "That doesn't mean she's going to do something foolish, not even if she does fall for a boy." She smiled coyly up at Al. "Or do you really think she's that different from me?"

"You were never like this," Al pointed out, feeling on surer ground with that argument at least.

Elicia chuckled. "That you know of. Don't you remember all those young officers from HQ who were after me?"

Oh yes. Al remembered them quite well all right. Even before he had realized his feelings for Elicia, he had disliked watching them flock to her. "All right, I see your point. I'll try and be less uptight and let her do things her way."

"That's one of the reasons I love you," Elicia kissed him again. "You're so reasonable. You'll see. Everything will settle down in a couple of weeks and all of this will seem normal."

**September 6****th****, 1951**

The next morning was anything but settled and normal. When Al came downstairs for breakfast he was startled to find Alyse had completely taken over the kitchen. There looked like there were enough supplies to bake for half the Amestrian army. "What's going on?" he asked, confused.

"You really weren't paying attention last night were you?" Elicia asked with a chuckle as she set breakfast on the table. It was simple fare this morning; toast and jam and sausages. Al grabbed a piece of toast off the plate.

"Our first fundraiser of the year is a bake sale," Alyse turned around, grinning broadly. "So a bunch of the social committee and the cooking club are all coming over to have a work day!"

"How many are you expecting?" Al looked at the bags of flour and sugar and piles of fresh fruit. "And what are you making?"

"Oh a dozen of the girls or so," Alyse shrugged, never taking her eyes from the piles in the kitchen as she clearly took stock to make sure she had everything. "We're making apple pies, cherry tarts, lemon tarts, and sugar, chocolate chip, and peanut butter cookies." She ticked them off on her fingers as she went down the list.

A dozen teenage girls were going to take over his house for an entire Saturday to make loads of desserts. Suddenly Al's home felt like a rather dangerous place to be! "Sounds busy," was all he said in comment as momentary panic set in.

"That's why I'll be at the library," Will commented as he scooted through the living room, grabbing toast and a sausage off the table and not stopping as he hit the front door. "And then I'm going to catch a movie this afternoon with some friends. See you later!" The door shut behind him.

Elicia was smiling. Alyse glanced over at her father with a speculative look. "What about you, Daddy?"

Al almost choked on his toast. "I've got plans," he replied vaguely. Fortunately Alyse didn't ask for elaboration because the doorbell rang.

"That must be Jeanette," Alyse ducked out of the kitchen and headed for the door herself.

"Excuse me," Al swallowed the bite in his mouth and headed for the phone. He needed some excuse to get out of the house for the day. He picked up the receiver and dialed his best chance of escape.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Edward and Alphonse met up at the park about half way between their houses, dressed for their usual Saturday sparring sessions. Ed gave Al a curious look as they started out for a warm-up run. "Not that I mind moving up the schedule," he commented with a chuckle as they matched pace, "But you sounded like you were in a real hurry when you called. What's up? Elicia try and make you spend the whole day folding laundry?" he teased.

"Much worse," Al snorted and shook his head. Matching pace with Ed wasn't difficult. Alphonse's longer legs made it easy to keep up with Ed's faster pace, at least if it didn't turn into a full out race. At that point, it was one of the physical competitions between the two of them that Ed would win most of the time. He had always been a natural runner, and over the years he had done more of it now than Al had. "I wouldn't have minded the laundry. No, Alyse invited about a dozen girls over for an all day baking marathon for some fundraiser for school."

"Sounds more like heaven than an excuse to vacate," Ed laughed. "I know if there were that many people making sweets in my kitchen I'd be trying to steal any bite I could get!"

"You're scrawny enough to get away with it," Al retorted, grinning down at his brother. "And you're not trying to drop five pounds."

"That's not the same five pounds you dragged home from Xing?" Ed glanced over at him incredulously as they rounded a corner. Despite the fact that Ed had probably gorged worse than anyone else on that trip he – and Ethan, naturally – had been the only two to come out relatively_ undamaged _from months of Xing hospitality.

"No, I'm pretty sure they trade out every couple of weeks," Al grumbled. "And actually that was ten." He _had_ managed to lose half of it.

Ed tsked and shook his head. "I thought_ I_ was supposed to be the big brother?" He couldn't help teasing.

"Well if you'd do your part!" Al retorted with a laugh as he shoved Ed with his elbow without ever breaking stride.

"You can't say I haven't tried!" Ed shoved him back.

They never stopped running, but eventually the shoving match had to stop. Al sighed then and laid it all out for him, from his worries about the male attention Alyse was getting and her packed schedule on top of the stresses they had all been dealing with the last few months. He also mentioned Elicia's comments about how he was like her father and thought he was over-reacting. "Summer was better," Al admitted when he finished the explanation nearly a mile into the run. "But I panicked a little this morning when I found out about the baking-fest. Sticking around seemed like a bad idea. Alyse always wants _my_ opinion."

Ed was shaking his head in amusement. "No wonder you're having issues. You really need to learn to say no to pretty girls with green eyes."

"Mom had green eyes," Al retorted, feeling a little defensive. Elicia and Alyse both did too.

"And I argued with Mom all the time too, remember?" Ed chuckled, though his expression softened. "No, you need to stand up to Alyse sometimes even if it hurts her feelings a little."

"What about you and Sara?" Al asked pointedly.

Almost immediately Ed's brow creased slightly. "She's a grown woman now. I try and stay out of her business." He didn't say anything else, but he didn't have to. Al knew that as much as Ed liked the Major his daughter was dating in general, Ed obviously disliked how quickly their relationship had turned intimate as soon as they actually became a couple.

"I guess that does make a difference," Al agreed. He was pretty sure Sara knew how Ed felt anyway. He let the subject drop.

They ran for a while longer in companionable silence, or just chit-chatting about nothing of importance. When they finished the five mile loop and came back to the park they spent a while sparring hard until they were both a winded. Al pointedly ignored the inevitable audience of Saturday morning dog-walkers and families out with children, or other folks of varying ages out for a little exercise. He and Ed had gotten used to it, and Al had to admit it was probably a good show!

When they were both tired they dropped down on the grass under the trees. "It was definitely easier to beat you when I never got tired," Al chuckled as he leaned his back up against the tree and stretched his legs out in front of him, one knee bent.

"Well it was hell on me trying to beat you," Ed laughed, sprawled out on his back, his hands under his head as he looked up at the bottoms of the leaves above their heads. This time of year the leaves were still green, but one or two was hinting at yellow, and the breeze that cooled them had a brisk bite that heralded the oncoming autumn. "I'm going to miss this weather too. Takes me longer to warm up in the mornings when it gets cold out."

"You still ache around your auto-mail ports?" Al asked curiously. Of course, Ed had ached where his auto-mail attached ever since they were boys, but with the lighter auto-mail and improvements in metals and care, Al did wonder sometimes if Ed had just stopped complaining about it, or if the situation had actually improved.

Ed nodded, smirking wryly. "That and my _real_ joints are stiffer in the mornings when it's cold out too, especially my knee." He stretched his right leg out and Al heard a couple of very distinct pops under Ed's pants.

"My neck does that," Al nodded, grinning and stretching his arms above his head, "Though it doesn't always pop that easily. Elicia will work on it for me, thank goodness." His wife had the hands of an angel when it came to working knots out of just about any muscle or the kinks from any joint, but it irritated Al a little how much more often those things occurred.

Ed seemed to pick up on his irritation. "Does she tease you about the gray hairs too?" he smirked.

Al resisted the urge to stick his tongue out immaturely at his brother. He had not done that in years. There were just a _few _grays amidst the darkest-honey color of his hair. "She thinks they're _distinguished. _If I actually looked my age, I'm afraid people would think she was my daughter too instead of my wife."

"That's what you get for robbing the cradle," Ed laughed.

"_You _encouraged me," Al stuck out his foot and nudged Ed in the ribs.

"Of course I did," Ed nodded matter-of-factly. "As your wise older brother, it was my duty to make sure you didn't miss out on a chance at a gorgeous girl who wouldn't mind sleeping with my _homely_ little brother."

"Because you always were the expert on girls, right?" Al rolled his eyes. "_Older _brother, indeed. If you hadn't married Winry I'm sure I would have never managed to find a girl willing to date my sour-faced, short-tempered shrimp of an older brother. Especially not now; you just admitted you're practically falling apart after all." Al could tease back as good as he got and, his body being younger than Ed's by a few years, as they aged he could tease Ed about the differences, though there were still surprisingly few. They were both too active and healthy, despite past hardships, to age badly.

"Better a shrimp and a crab than a sea cow," Ed sniggered, apparently preferring to respond with wit than violence. That was something Al appreciated about the more mature Edward. The other the two of them got, the more Ed seemed content to use weapons_ other_ than his temper. And yes, his temper _definitely_ counted as a weapon in many situations.

"Well that's mean," Al sniffed, though he wasn't really insulted by the joke. Neither of them meant the insults they hurled at each other. It was just good brotherly fun.

"And the S word isn't?" Ed chuckled, referring to shrimp.

"At least we've both actually seen a shrimp to make the accurate comparison," Al smirked. Really, he wasn't that much bigger than Ed. Not in height or sheer mass, though his build was broader, more like their father's, though they had both gotten a lot of Mom in them Al figured. People had stopped commenting years ago that Ed had the look of their father, even though he didn't have anywhere near the height. Ed had never liked those comparisons and seemed to avoid anything that might make him look like him any more than his general facial structure and hair type. That was probably a good thing in general though since Ed looked a lot younger than their Dad ever had in Al's memory. Ed would probably look odd to him with facial hair anyway. "What time is it anyway?"

Ed pulled his watch out of his pocket. "Almost noon," he replied. "I should get home. I promised Ethan we'd work on some chemical equations after lunch."

"Sounds riveting," Al chuckled as he stood up. "I should probably get home too, though I will probably hide upstairs and work on research until the gaggle of teenage girls is out of the house."

"To save your sanity?" Ed asked with a knowing grin.

Al laughed as he turned to head for home. "More like to avoid testing my will power!"

* * *

Edward was feeling good when he got home. A good workout and time spent with Alphonse was always a great way to spend any time. He hoped his brother would sort things out at home, though Ed privately found the situation more amusing than anything else. No one was likely to get hurt, no matter the outcome. "Hey, Winry, I'm back," he called out as he came in. He noticed the door to her home workshop was open, but when he peeked in, Winry wasn't there. Ed turned, and spotted her curled up on the couch, napping. Well now that was interesting. Winry rarely took naps and given she was still wearing her cover-alls Ed suspected this one wasn't exactly scheduled. He tried to cross the room quietly, but she came awake almost at once, blinking at him then sitting up blearily. "You're home," she commented. "That was quick."

"Not really," Ed smiled as he sat down next to her. "Al and I got in quite a work out this morning. I was sure I was going to be late for lunch."

Winry glanced up at the clock and her eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I just sat down for a minute. Or at least, that was the plan," she shrugged and smiled. "Oops."

"Naps have a way of happening when you least expect them," Ed teased her, kissing her on the cheek. "You've been working hard lately. It's easy to get tired out."

"I guess," Winry looked concerned for a moment then seemed to shrug it off. "That was a really good two hour nap," she said finally. She looked a little stiff.

"So, where's Ethan?" Ed asked as he reached over and started massaging Winry's shoulders. As he had suspected, they seemed a little tense. He wasn't the only one who needed to remember to take it easy from time to time. His son had started back into school full-time this week as well, determined to carry out his plan to go to University for the other elements of his medical education that he needed.

"At the hospital," Winry replied. "He said that since he had finished his homework he wanted to get back to doing something more challenging and enjoyable." She chuckled softly. Ethan had been required to cut back on his volunteer training hours with Doctor Gray to go back to school, but still insisted on fitting in as much time as he could with that, and with Ed at his alchemy lessons and putting in a few hours a week at the auto-mail shop too. Just thinking about it all made Ed tired.

"So we're alone then," Ed murmured softly into her ear, drawing up close beside her. He wasn't _that_ tired. "What do you say we move this somewhere a little more…private?" he asked hopefully.

"No thanks." Winry's reply was much curter than Ed expected.

"You sure?" He slid his hands from her shoulders and down to her waist.

Winry's hands jammed his into the couch faster than he remembered she could move. It wasn't a violent or painful gesture, but it was forceful and abrupt. "I'm not in the mood, Edward. Maybe later, okay?"

"Okay." Ed pulled his hands away as she let them up. "Sorry I asked."

Winry sighed. "Sorry. I guess I'm just still a little tired. Maybe I should take breaks more often," she offered a small smile that softened the impact of her refusal. It wasn't as if she _never_ said no after all. Usually she just wasn't as uptight about it.

"You should," Ed agreed, sitting back and giving her space. He knew better than to push unless he was in the mood to start a fight. "Tell you what, I'll make lunch. Why don't you relax and read a book, or take a nice long hot bath or something?" She enjoyed doing both.

A warmer smile came to Winry's face. "I like that idea." She stood up and stretched. "Thanks, Ed." She bent down long enough to kiss him briefly then headed upstairs.

_Good move,_ Ed complimented himself. He was starved after a morning of exercise, but Winry was obviously more tired than he was. Letting her relax seemed to have made her day. His stomach growled audibly, and he tried to figure out what he could make that wouldn't take hours to prepare.

**September 7****th****, 1951**

_Edward was dreaming. He knew it from the start because he was sitting in the living room of his childhood home, and everything looked bigger, the way it had when he had been about five years old. Across the table from him sat an equivalently younger Alphonse, and between them was a plate of hot, steaming sweet rolls slathered in sugar icing; one of Edward's favorite breakfasts that his mother used to make. Both of them already had rolls on their own plates and were eating happily._

_Mom was there too, smiling from where she sat at the end of the table. "Not too many now, Edward," she chuckled, scolding gently. "You don't want to get a stomach ache like last time." _

_"I won't, Mom," Edward scoffed as he happily chowed down on another roll. _

_There was a ringing sound._

_"That's the tea. Who wants some?" Mom stood up and walked into the kitchen. _

_"I do," Edward mumbled around a mouthful of roll._

_"Brother," Alphonse gave him a scolding look. "Yes, please, Mom!" _

_"Kiss up," Edward smirked at Alphonse. _

_The ringing sound came again. That was odd. Why did the tea kettle sound more like a telephone?_

Ed opened his eyes. Downstairs, the phone was ringing. He glanced at the clock and groaned. Who was calling at eight in the morning on a Sunday? It was the weekend damn it! Winry was still sleeping peacefully beside him, so Ed crawled out of bed and padded on downstairs. "This had better be good," he commented into the phone instead of his usual greeting.

"I wish it was, Edward." It was Breda. He did not sound amused though. Actually he sounded tense and tired. "We're having an emergency meeting of the Assembly in an hour to discuss the situation in Aerugo. I need the upper brass in attendance. Call Alphonse for me, all right?"

"Yes, Sir," Ed replied, coming fully alert almost at once. Aerugo? "I'll be there."

"Good. And Ed," Breda said, "This is formal."

"Understood." Ed heard Breda hang up first without further ado. That meant full uniform. _Aerugo? _What could the entire Assembly plus the upper brass possibly have to discuss in regards to their southernmost neighbor that dragged everyone out of bed on a weekend? Sure things had been tense down there recently, but Aerugo had always been an internal hotbed with tensions bubbling under the surface. From time to time they'd have internal issues, but those were always quickly squashed, and ever since the cessation of hostilities that Bradley had started between the two nations, things had been peaceful on the border.

Ed picked the phone up again and quickly dialed Al's house. His brother was already awake, and seemed just as confused as Ed did, but said he'd be there. Then Ed went upstairs. He had showered last night, so that wouldn't be necessary this morning. He did take the time for a quick shave and then brushed out and braided his hair. Then he pulled on his uniform. He was sitting down on the bed to pull on his boots when Winry rolled over and looked up at him.

"What's going on?" she asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with one hand.

"The Assembly's declaring a six day work week," Ed replied with a smirk. He leaned over and kissed her lightly. "Breda called. There's an Assembly meeting he wants me at."

"Well that's inconsiderate," Winry yawned, her hand going to cover her mouth instead. "I guess it has to be important though."

"Something about Aerugo," Ed shrugged as he stood up and made sure everything was on straight. "I'm sure it's no big deal," he added with a reassuring smile. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Really, Ed wasn't nearly that confident. As he drove over to Central Headquarters he wondered what was really going on. There was no way a meeting like this would be called over something minor. There had been rumors coming through intelligence of a possible revolt attempt in Aerugo. Not that it was anything new. Those kinds of rumors were actually pretty common, and often the next report involved the people involved being caught and tried by the Aerugean government. Was it possible one of those attempts had actually been made? He supposed he would find out soon enough.

* * *

The Assembly room was mostly full already when Ed arrived. He spotted Alphonse already there sitting at one of the long wooden desk-tables in the tiered room. What surprised Ed was who he was sitting with. What was Roy Mustang doing here, and in uniform too? "So, what's the situation?" Ed asked as he dropped down into the seat next to Al.

"We don't know yet," Al shook his head. "The meeting's supposed to start in a few minutes though."

"Must be something if it's got you out here," Ed looked at Roy.

Mustang shrugged. "Breda dragged me out of bed for this too. Said he specifically wanted me here, but I don't know anything more than you do apparently."

Ed opened his mouth to ask Roy and Al's opinion on his attempted coup theory when Breda took his seat and the meeting came to order. If Ed had been expecting a direct pronouncement of the situation though, he would have been sorely disappointed. He was used to how the Assembly worked though, having had to give reports in here plenty of times.

It began with a long summary of all of the intelligence coming out of Aerugo for the past six months, and Intelligence's assessments of that information. There were a lot of statistics and facts and dates and very little conjecture. All in all a very boring report, typical of what Ed had expected. What came after though was _anything_ but.

When the Intelligence officer stopped speaking and sat down, Breda took over. "Last night," he spoke in his booming voice. Really the man almost didn't need a microphone to be heard throughout the large space. "We received a direct call from just our side of the Aerugean border from men we have already confirmed through intelligence to be who they claim to be. The seven of them are the surviving members of the Aerugean government which was, we have been informed, successfully overthrown in a coup d'etat just four days ago." The room went silent for a moment, then broke out in a flurry of shocked whispers. Breda's next words silenced them again. "They are seeking asylum from the new government in our country, and asking our aide in restoring the previous regime."

"You can't be serious!" Assemblyman Reo – an older, balding man with graying fringe and a stout frame – glowered down at Breda. "They let corruption run rampant in their own government."

"They wouldn't be the first government accused of that, Reos," Breda replied pointedly. "And I never said we promised them anything, but we did have trade agreements with them and technically we are still legally bound by those."

"Will the new government stand by those agreements?" Another Assemblyman asked; this one much younger and whose name Ed couldn't remember at the moment.

"That remains to be seen," Breda replied. "We need to open diplomatic negotiations with the new government at once, at least to feel them out and find out what their intentions are before we make a decision to do anything. Or nothing," he added the last coldly. There was no reason, at the moment, for Amestris to get involved without knowing the full situation.

"What about the old government?" someone else asked.

"They are being brought here by train as we speak," Breda answered. "They should be here in a week and wish to address the Assembly in person. I see no reason to deny that request, and it should be very helpful in getting a more detailed look at the situation than even our intelligence can manage. By then, we should also have more detailed intelligence out of Aerugo, and an idea of whether or not we can work with the new government, and what their intentions are."

"I thought we already had a diplomatic envoy in Bueáire?" Someone else asked. Bueáire was the capitol city of Aerugo, well inside its borders to the South and West.

"We have not heard from our embassy," Breda replied, "Though the reasons for that remain unclear. It seems there is very little communication coming out of Bueáire at this time. However, the exiles coming our direction claim that there was violence involved in the coup, and that a large number of their cabinet members were executed."

Ed didn't like the sound of any of this and, judging by Al and Roy's faces, neither did they. The military officers scattered through out the room all shared similar expressions. There was a good chance that this might not remain the realm of politics for very long, but everyone hoped to avoid military action.

The meeting ended soon after that. There was a vote as to the course of action, but it was fairly unanimous. No one wanted a war, so they would reestablish communications with the new government in Aerugo and see what could be salvaged of the situation, and if there was any way to keep things peaceful and find out the truth of the matter before the government-in-exile arrived in Central.

"I don't like this," Roy commented under his breath as the three of them left the meeting. The halls were empty as almost everyone else headed home to their families and their weekend plans. The meeting had lasted for nearly three hours all told and it was noon.

"I don't think anyone does," Al replied with a shrug.

Roy shook his head. "I mean I don't like the feel of it. Think about it, a _successful_ coup in Aerugo after all this time? What does that imply about its nature?"

Ed caught on to what he thought Roy meant. "The people were supporting it."

"At least a large contingent of them," Roy nodded; his expression dour. "If this is what the majority of their people want-"

"Than anything we do in opposition to the new government is going to aggravate the situation," Al finished Roy's thought with a sigh.

"Even granting temporarily asylum to their former government officials," Roy scowled. "We can be pretty sure that with only four days to consolidate control, things are still very insecure down there. If it_ was _violent, and there's no real reason to assume otherwise given past instability, than we should be concerned about anything setting them off."

"They wouldn't be foolish enough to declare war on us would they?" Ed asked. He didn't like that idea at all, but they definitely could not discount the possibility. There were just too many unknowns to do any real planning, and he found that frustrating.

"We can't discount that possibility," Roy . "At least now we know why Breda waned me here." He smirked sadly. "I probably know more about pulling off a coup under a government's nose than anyone else in Amestris." He did not sound proud of that fact.

Ed couldn't argue with him. If things had gone down as badly as they had been anticipating when they had gone after Bradley and the homunculi, Roy and his entire office – including Edward and Alphonse – could just as easily have been branded traitors, imprisoned, and left to rot if they weren't executed for crimes against the state. Though since Ed had vanished to the other side of the gate and Al had changed back to a boy with no memory of the events, the two of them would have gotten out of that. "Breda will want your opinions on all this then for sure."

Roy nodded. "We were planning to have dinner at their place tonight before all this happened anyway. Somehow I don't think barbecue sauce recipes will be top on the list for tonight's discussion."

They went their separate ways in the parking lot. Ed and Al watched as Roy walked on alone towards his car.

"I guess it's true," Ed sighed. "There really is no such thing as full military retirement while you're still alive."

**September 8****th****-14****th****, 1951**

The next week was a strange one around Headquarters. Ed could feel the tensions mounting as word of the coup in Aerugo became common knowledge in Central and the news spread throughout Amestris. While few people knew about the exiles coming to Central, a lot of people were nervous. Too many of them remembered less settled days. There was a lot of talk in the hallways and offices, and even in the Mess about the situation, but there was very little actual news.

At least, there was very little that was currently _public_ news. Ed and Al made a point of dropping in every afternoon for talks with Breda just to keep abreast of the situation. There was one meeting at the beginning of the week with Breda and all the Generals to discuss the meeting on Sunday and what the possible coming scenarios might be if this turned hostile. Other than that, they kept busy with the usual duties, working like nothing had changed. Though Ed couldn't help but step things up a little in the regular and alchemical combat classes with the State Alchemists. Perhaps it was preemptive, and unnecessary, but it made him feel a little more confident.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Marcus Kane asked after a particularly grueling afternoon session on Wednesday. He was joking, but from the questioning look in his eyes, Ed knew the Colonel wondered, and probably had better guesses than a lot of the people Ed had overheard lately.

"Quite the opposite," Ed replied with a shrug, purposefully keeping it vague. He met Kane's eyes though, and he knew the man understood. If it came to it, Ed just wanted to make sure everyone was ready to stay_ alive._

The news that did come in from intelligence, and sometimes open channels as people left Aerugo, was worrisome. The new government had replied with surprising ease and friendliness to calls in from Central, which managed to go through without any trouble at all. Indeed, the new government consisted of a handful of businessmen in various areas who were promising change and economic growth to the relatively poor population that made up most of Aerugo. They sounded interested in talking with Amestris about making some new alliances and economic deals, but it was notable that they said little about the previously existing agreements. They also refused to talk about the previous regime, though they assured Breda's diplomatic corps that their embassy was intact, and none of the people inside it had been harmed, though they were being detained for their own safety while the _inevitable _malcontents were dealt with in the city.

The little intelligence coming from their own men said that things were not nearly as peaceful, or as minimally dissenting, as they appeared. The army of Aerugo was on the move to deal with malcontents and riots, not just in the capitol, but into other cities as well. All within Aerugo borders, but that movement hardly said _peaceful new future.  
_The day the exiles arrived in Central, the government in Bueáire made their declaration. They had no intention whatsoever of honoring the deals made by their previous government with Amestris, or any other nation. They were tired of stronger nations fleecing their people with what they considered unfair trade agreements.

With no further warning, the border was closed and armed soldiers were posted. While Amestris had been doing its best to negotiate and find a peaceful solution, Aerugo had not just mobilized troops to deal with uprisings; they had posted a good chunk of their army on their borders so that no one could get in or out.

Really, no one would have cared if Aerugo wanted to seal itself off and go it alone except for one major problem. Aerugo had always relied heavily on tourism to fuel its economy, and that meant there were still thousands of Amestrians, Cretans, and other people trapped behind those blockades!


	2. Chapter 2

**September 15****th****, 1951**

The Assembly Hall was more chaotic than Ed had ever seen it: everything from panic to near outrage so thick he could feel the emotions of everyone in the air around him, almost like energy, and he _briefly_ toyed with the idea of seeing if emotional energy could be used for transmutations as well. Perhaps he could make gags for the entire assembly?

Not that Ed felt any less angered by the situation. He was far too familiar with how businessmen _did_ business in Aerugo, and he had no trouble believing that the men now in charge of the country were as corrupt and out for themselves as the ones he had met years ago on his and Winry's little undercover mission to Havah to recover that red stone.

The meeting that morning had been entirely devoted to listening to the exiles of Aerugo as they spoke their piece and give their accounts of what had happened and who was now in charge of their country. Indeed, the reports of most of the cabinet being executed were true, and those who had made it this far had barely escaped with their lives. A couple of them had sustained actual wounds fleeing from the Capitol.

It had been a long meeting, long enough that Ed's backside had fallen asleep, and he had wished that the rest of him could do the same when they went over the story for a _fourth_ time. He knew the people had already been debriefed by Intelligence and Investigations thoroughly, and that this was partially formality and partially to spur the Assembly into action. They had taken a break for lunch,_ thank goodness_, but that seemed to have only renewed their energy for arguing!

"That's enough!" Breda finally bellowed over the noise, trying to bring things to order. Usually the Assembly was not so difficult to control. "I appreciate that you're all upset about this, but if we cannot have a little order than nothing will get accomplished!"

The noise died down over a few seconds. Ed doubted anyone was really happy to be treated like children, but Breda looked angry enough that no one wanted to mess with him. The man could look downright intimidating when he actually felt like it.

"That's better," Breda huffed, sitting back down in his seat. "Now, the question before us today is what to do given the new situation."

The suggestions came fast and furious.

"We should insist that they let our people go."

"The answer is obvious. If they are going to declare war then we have no choice but to fight back."

Roy surprised Ed by speaking up and taking a more active role than he had to this point. He stood up. "Technically they haven't _declared_ war. All they've done is close their borders. If we go in,_ we_ will be the ones instigating hostilities." The former President, retired General, did not have to yell to get everyone's attention. They knew his voice far too well.

Suddenly the tone of the room changed completely.

"We can't do that. It will be like Bradley all over again!" Lauren Borgat, one of the few women in the Assembly, exclaimed. There was a large murmur of agreement with her statement. "Attacking other countries without provocation for our own means; Even if that's not what we do, that's how people will see it."

Roy scowled. "This government is no less corrupt than the old one, and they've already proven they can't be trusted and don't intend to negotiate. I don't see that we have any other choice."

"Never figured you for a warmonger, Mustang," old man Feraro, by far the longest standing member of the Assembly, groused. The unspoken question was also clear. What the hell was Mustang doing here anyway? No one dared to say it out loud however. If Breda wanted Mustang there, the man was there.

"And I never figured the governing body of Amestris for the cowards I've seen this week," Mustang countered, his hard one-eyed gaze sweeping the room. "Since when does public opinion take precedence over the safety of Amestrian citizens? If we don't go in, do you think the people will be any prouder of their _uncorrupt_ nation because we abandoned thousands of people in a foreign country with no way out instead of risking our _precious_ reputations?"

There was a strained silence that followed, as if no one wanted to contradict Roy, or if they weren't sure how to do so without becoming exactly what he accused them of.

"So speaks the hero of Ishbal," Ed commented under his breath as Roy sat back down next to him.

"So agrees the President of Amestris," Roy countered just as quietly as general murmuring resumed, so only Ed and Al could hear him. "Why do you think I'm in here?" Of course Mustang and Breda would have been working jointly on this.

"You make a great secret weapon," Al snickered softly.

"They're afraid of me," Roy shrugged, but he smirked smugly. "They know Breda won't bother trying to rein me in."

"Mustang's got a point," Feraro finally nodded then, speaking to the Assembly. "We have to do _something_ to get our people out of there, and Aerugo has heavily armed its borders. Even going in to rescue our people will be a direct act of war, but _I_ do not see how that can be avoided at this point either."

From there, the rest of the meeting went much smoother, though no faster. "Hell, you'd think once they agreed to declare war they could just declare it and get things moving," Ed finally groaned an hour later while they were debating the nature of the conflict or some other nonsense. The military officers in the room had no actual voting rights, so there was nothing much left to do but listen unless their opinions were called for at this point.

"You know it's not that simple," Al sighed, though he sounded no less enthused, and just as tense. "Besides, you say it so lightly, but it's a big deal."

"Yeah, it is," Ed shook his head. "Sorry, Al. You know me, I'd much rather get things moving than sit around once something's been decided. That way we can get it over with."

"My sentiments exactly," Roy commented from Ed's left. "I expect Breda will want to meet with the rest of us when this is all over. Once it leaves this room, this becomes a matter for the military."

This meant, Ed thought, that things would move along much more decisively. The Generals of Amestris may not always agree on things either, but at least then it would get down to matters of strategy and planning instead of all this sitting around dickering over semantics of wording. How hard could it be to write a document saying '_you guys want a fight, well you've got it?'_

Apparently it was harder than Ed had ever given it credit for. By the time they had a statement that the majority agreed with, and they voted in agreement, it was dinner time. Ed was thinking it might be worth it to eat in the mess and just tell Winry he'd be late when Breda caught up with the three of them at the door. "My conference room, twenty minutes, gentlemen," he commented gruffly as he kept moving, heading for the other Generals in the room.

"So much for dinner," Ed groaned.

"I'm told boot leather is tasty," Al chuckled far too cheerfully.

"It's not," Roy replied before Ed could retort. "Just take my word for it."

Twenty minutes wasn't a lot of time. Ed ducked into his office long enough to call home and tell Winry he wouldn't be home for dinner at all.

"What's going on, Ed?" Winry asked nervously. He had told her a lot of what he knew this week. In their circle of friends, it was impossible_ not_ to know what was going on. The news of the border being closed spread far too quickly. That was part of why everything had been so rushed today. The government didn't have time to be leisurely in making a decision.

"It's war," Ed sighed, not bothering to hide the truth. "At least, it's going to be when Aerugo refuses to let people out." There was no doubt at this point that the refusal would come. "I've been numbing my ass on an Assembly bench all day and now Breda wants to meet with us."

Winry did not ask who _us_ meant. "How long do you think you'll be?" she asked after a moment.

"No idea," Ed admitted. "This could take hours if we get talking strategy. The difficult part isn't declaring war, it's figuring out how to get our people out of Aerugo with minimal losses."

On the other end of the line, he heard Winry swallow. "Of course. I'll see you when you get home."

Ed hung up the phone and headed upstairs. When he got there, the President's conference room was packed. It startled Ed to realize there were a few faces there who Breda must have called in days ago, as soon as they knew the exiles were on their way. How much of this situation had he anticipated accurately? Breda had always been a tactical genius. It would not surprise Ed in the least to find out Breda had expected most of it. It was a surprising sign of his _own_ position when he realized that, despite the number of men standing in the room – there were almost forty people in there – there was a seat for him at the main table beside Roy. He was not the last person to arrive either.

"All right," Breda sat at the end of the table. He looked around the room. "Now that the bureaucracy is out of the way, let's get down to the real work." There were a few muffled chuckles and sniggers. None of them liked dealing with the Assembly. The military hierarchy made things move much faster. "We're going into Aerugo with the stated intent of rescuing our people, and any others forced to remain unwillingly within Aerugean borders." He waited for the few nods of agreement and understanding before he continued. "We've also listened to the request of the government-in-exile to help in restoring the previous regime. I'm sure you're all well familiar with how they ran things in Aerugo. I doubt there are more than a handful of men in this room who haven't vacationed in Havah." He smirked, and there were several more chuckles and knowing glances. "To that end, the Assembly has agreed that while we will not actively support the previous government, we _do not_ approve of the methods being employed by the new government either."

"So who are we supporting then?" General Morroh asked, frowning.

"The people of Aerugo itself," Breda actually grinned a little. "We're taking a page from the alchemists, and I hope they'll forgive us. The current situation is volatile and clearly a danger to the people of Aerugo itself. It's not equalitarian and it's not safe. We are declaring war here, gentlemen, to restore stability to the region and our Southern border."

"Yes, Sir," came the expected chorus. No one spoke out in opposition of the idea.

Breda nodded. "You're going to make this too easy on me aren't you?"

"The alchemists could refuse to forgive you if it would make you feel better?" Ed couldn't help the snarky comment.

It was well timed though. Everyone laughed, and some of the seriousness and tension fled the room along with the formality.

"No thanks," Breda replied, though he too seemed a little more relaxed. "I'd like Brahm in charge of strategic planning. Mustang," He glanced over at the older General then looked over at Roy. "I'd like to think we can count on you to assist in an _advisory _capacity?" Everyone there knew what Breda really meant. Roy couldn't command; he was still technically retired, but this was exactly the kind of war he knew best.

Roy grinned. "Of course, Mister President. I'd be honored." Honored, pleased, and smug as hell about it, Ed was sure.

"Good," Breda smirked. "Then I'm sure you're already prepared to lay out some brilliant strategy for us that you've no doubt concocted with all that free time you have during the day."

Roy snorted, but stood and walked up to the giant map that covered the wall behind Breda's chair. "Of course I have a plan," he started in without missing a beat. "Here's how I see it. We have our primary force in to rescue the civilians; the majority of our troops, right out where they can see them." Roy pointed to the primary route into and out of Aerugo, the roads and the railway. "That's where they have their border blockades anyway. No one would be crazy enough to come in say…over here," he pointed to another spot in the middle of almost nowhere much further East along the border where Aerugo was thick with tropical forest covered mountains. "Which is exactly why this is where we send in our secondary force."

"And just what is this second force going to do?" one of the Brigadier's asked from behind Ed.

Brahm stepped up then, with a look on his face that said he had figured out what Roy was planning. "Cuts down to here," he pointed to the Ama River in the mountainous jungle region, "And follows the river right down to the Capitol, Bueáire, to have a little _chat _with this new government about what they're up to."

"That hardly looks defensive," Olivia Armstrong snorted derisively. Ed really wished she had not been one of the Generals to show up. The woman had not thawed over the years. Perhaps it was mean, but Ed couldn't help but be mildly glad that the woman had never married and produced offspring. "The Assembly will not be pleased." She had not been in the earlier meetings, so Ed suspected that she had just arrived from Briggs. If so, she had brought the icy chill with her.

"They've left it up to us," Ed cut in, meeting eyes with the Ice Queen, who sat almost directly across from him. "And given the objectives it's a necessary action."

"I'm surprised to hear that coming from you, Fullmetal." Olivia never called Ed by his rank unless absolutely required to. Ed knew she still didn't like him, even if she might, somewhere under that icy exterior, respect his abilities. "Not after all your high ideals and _devotion _to the people. But then, you really have turned into Mustang's well trained little lap dog haven't you?"

Ed went to lunge over the table, but only Al's hand on his shoulder stayed him and caused him to catch himself, regaining control over his temper. "Bitch," he replied instead with a grumble.

"Olivia," Breda cut in, clearly irritated. "I requested you come here because of your experience with hostile borders, not to get snippy with the other officers. Now is not the time to be fighting amongst ourselves."

"Yes, Sir." With one last glare at Ed, she went quiet again.

"This is an invasion, gentlemen," Roy turned around from the map, the slightly bemused expression Ed had thought he saw when Ed tried to go for Olivia fading in moments. "We're not going to be the heroes of this one. Oh sure, we'll rescue our civilians and any non-Aerugeans who want out, but chances are a lot of the native population is going to see us as an unwelcome threat. There will be unprovoked violence, and in those cases, we will have no choice but to fight against civilians."

"It's like Ishbal," Al said softly.

"Exactly." Roy nodded somberly. "The only difference here is motive, and that's not going to mean a thing to the people whose homeland we are invading."

"Do we send in the Alchemists?" Brahm glanced over at Roy.

Roy sighed. "We don't dare not. In that kind of terrain and situation, we need all the advantage we can get and those defensive capabilities will cut down on losses on both sides."

"I thought as much," Breda agreed, looking around the room. Probably counting how many State Alchemists now actually stood within it. Those numbers had grown over the years. "Alex Armstrong, I'd like you in charge of the Northern force," Breda said after a moment, looking over at the Strong Arm Alchemist, and using his first name to make it very clear which Armstrong he meant. He smiled kindly. "That will consist of two Divisions. I'm sure you can handle a little humanitarian rescue operation right?"

Armstrong saluted smartly. "You can count on me, Sir." Ed caught Olivia's look of annoyance out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help smirking.

Ed waited for Breda to simply assign the Eastern force, but Breda was quiet for several more moments. "I'm not going to force anyone to take the Eastern assignment," he said quietly. "As much as we can claim humanitarian and just cause for pushing down to Havah and rescuing our people, there's no word for the Eastern attack but invasion. Whoever agrees to that position is putting himself open for more criticism than anyone else save myself and the Assembly for this."

"It would be easier if you just assigned it," Olivia snorted. "Then at least whoever it is would have the ability to say it was on orders."

"A job like that can't be _just orders_," Roy retorted, backing Breda. "No one will believe for an instant that any man, or woman, who made it to rank enough in this military follows orders blindly. That's a coward's excuse. Any real military officer with the authority of the people in this room would stand up and take responsibility for his actions, and the actions of his subordinates. The world, and his heart, should accept nothing less."

"Heart, Mustang?" Olivia did not seem cowed. Of course, she had never liked Roy and now that he was no longer her superior, she obviously felt no need to be any more respectful than she had been when he was President. "That's a laugh. What does that have to do with carrying out military objectives?"

"Everything," Breda replied, "And nothing, all at the same time. In war, we have to be detached, to keep necessary distance to see the situation impersonally and strategize accordingly. Our men die, and we have to be able to survive the harsh truth that it's our orders that will send them to their deaths. But without that loyalty to those men and women who fight for the causes we tell them to fight for, we become the monsters that led so easily to Bradley's control."

The room had gone uneasily quiet as Breda did not even bother to look in Olivia Armstrong's direction. Ed felt like holding his breath himself, to see what response came, and from what direction. He was nearly as surprised as everyone else when that response came from himself. "I'll do it." Ed almost didn't recognize his own voice as the words came out softly. Then his resolve steeled. "I'll do it," he replied again; stronger, louder.

There was a cumulative release of air that came in the form of everything from gasps or snorts to murmurs of _what the hell?_ Ed could only see the faces of the people in front of him. Roy and Breda both looked startled, Brahm contemplative, Morroh – who had been under him during the Drachman border dispute years back – looked slightly pleased. Olivia was glaring. The gasp behind his head had been all Ed needed to know Alphonse's reaction.

"Are you sure, Ed?" Breda actually blurted out. He said nothing else, but any reasons Breda, or Roy, or even Al could give did not need to be said for Ed to read them in their eyes and know what they were thinking.

Ed stood up, leaning over the table with his hands spread firmly on it. "Look, I don't give a damn about what people will think of me for doing it, and who else in this military could get away with it without committing professional suicide? I've got the experience," If they even tried to claim he didn't at _this_ point he'd turn them all into gelatin molds! "This is going to require dealing with the locals eventually, and unconventional tactics unless anyone here is an expert in dealing with jungle terrain." As he expected, no one spoke up. "Besides, as far as Amestris and half the other Countries are concerned, you'd be a fool not to plaster the word _Fullmetal_ all over this mission. Eventually people are _going_ to know about it. Sticking the 'hero of the people's' name all over it is going to be necessary PR if you don't want to be accused of Bradley's warmongering. It might at least buy us the second-thoughts we need from most of our existing allies."

Now the looks turned toward him were just as stunned, though several of those he could now see standing beyond those seated at the table – mostly younger, lower ranking officers - also looked mildly awed.

Even Roy looked like he'd swallowed something that didn't fit down his throat. "Damn, Ed," he said quietly after a long moment of silence. "That's politically astute enough, and yet so beautifully arrogant, you sound like you could be me."

"Am I wrong?" That was Ed's only reply. Now that he had made up his mind, he knew he was right and he wasn't backing down unless Breda flat out ordered him not to go. So far, however, no one else had stepped up.

Breda sighed. "No you're not."

"How egotistical and arrogant indeed," Olivia scoffed. "You over-estimate your importance, Fullmetal."

Ed's eyes narrowed as he turned to face Olivia again. She was, he noted, the voice of the opposition. He had no illusions that there weren't other men in this room who likely opposed having Ed in place, but they would let Olivia make their objections. "Whether it was intended that way or not, to the people of Amestris and those outside it the State Alchemists have become the face of the military. We've worked for nearly thirty years to fix the image in their minds of alchemists as attack dogs. If we don't play this right we're going to undo the good we've done for the past generation." Breda didn't look pleased, and it took little for Ed to guess why. "Not that this is all about PR," he said, shifting angles a little. "As President Breda here put it so eloquently, you're borrowing a page from the alchemists. Well that's more than just politics. We're doing this to rescue people stuck in a foreign country against their will and, perhaps more importantly, to make sure the people of Aerugo have a government that won't abuse them and might do some _real_ good for a change. As much as I don't like the idea of invading anyone any more than anyone else here probably does, I agree that this is the best course of action we have, and it's worth pursuing."

More silence. Either he had wowed them with his eloquence, or they all thought he was completely nuts. Ed had to admit that it was probably some of both.

"I'm going too."

Ed's head spun around so fast he was afraid he'd given himself whiplash. "What are you doing, Alphonse?"

His brother smirked and shrugged. "What I should have insisted on last time. Besides," he commented. "I'm the calm, rational one in the family, remember? It'll look better if it's both of us." Alphonse's eyes said more than he said aloud. He still felt some responsibility for what had happened to Ed during the Xing War, and was asserting his right, as a brother, to keep a protective watch over him the same way Ed had always insisted the reverse. He had a point too, and who better to be a second under him?

A smile spread across Ed's face. "So there's no way to talk you out of this either, is there?"

"Not a chance," Al shook his head, smiling. "Why break up an unbeatable team?"

"It looks like that decision's been made without approval," Roy actually chuckled, though there was little humor in it.

Breda looked helplessly between Roy and Armstrong for a moment. Ed noticed that Roy said nothing, and Armstrong merely looked emotionally choked up; probably by the display of brotherly affection. He was weird that way. "Why does this feel familiar?" Breda sounded resigned. "All right, Ed. The Eastern command is yours, and Alphonse will go with you. But," He held up one hand as people started to shift and open their mouths, "You and Armstrong both will have supporting officers who are non-alchemists as well as alchemists. I want to keep things balanced more to keep from over-taxing our alchemists than anything else." That made sense. Breda looked down the length of the table. "Rehnquist," he looked at the Major General at the end. "I'd like you with Armstrong."

"Yes, Mister President," Alan Rehnquist nodded sharply. Ed knew he had a very good tactical mind and was also good with mass logistics. Both would be important in the major assault.

"On top of that, I'd like you to take Brigadier General Marcus Kane."

Armstrong looked momentarily confused, and even Ed caught the reason. "Brigadier?" Ed looked at Breda questioningly to make sure that it wasn't a mistake.

Breda grinned. "You can quarrel over who gets to hand him that promotion."

Ed looked up at Armstrong and grinned. "Arm wrestle you for it?"

Alex gave him a startled look then laughed heartily. "No, that's fine. The honor is yours."

Ed chuckled and turned back to Breda. "And who else are you sticking me with?" he asked, though his tone was no longer uptight. He was going, there was no question, and it was_ his_ command. He did wonder who he would have under him though. He just prayed that Breda wasn't twisted enough to stick him with Olivia!

"Brigadier General Brewster," Breda replied, gesturing toward the back wall.

Now that name sounded familiar. Ed turned and looked at the other man standing there, and he recognized the face almost at once though he hadn't seen the man in_ years _and then, he'd been a Colonel. He was also from Briggs and was used to a hostile border. Ed grinned. "It's been a while."

Hal Brewster dropped the formalities and grinned back. "It's nice to know I haven't been completely forgotten," he replied. "It will be an honor to work with you again, Sir."

"Glad to see you're already acquainted and don't hate each other," Breda quipped. "All right, that settled, anyone not specifically on this task force is welcome to escape. The rest of you will please stay a little longer."

Great, that's what volunteering got him, more meetings! Not that Ed could really say he minded. There was work to be done.

"You're the same ladder climbing worm I always thought you were," Olivia commented softly under her breath as she headed for the door.

Ed grinned his most winning smiling at her and spoke in a completely normal tone so _everyone _could hear. "You know what, Olivia? I don't give a damn about your opinion and I never have. Why don't you take your sorry ass back up to your little ice palace like a good little snow queen and leave the real work to the rest of us?" He knew he was going to piss her off, and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

Olivia Armstrong's face turned the deepest shade of purple Ed thought he had ever seen. With every eye on her though, there was only so much she could say without risking real retribution from Breda. "I look forward to your funeral, Elric," she glowered before stalking from the room.

After that, the conference room emptied quickly until it contained only Breda, Roy, Brahm, Alex Armstrong, Ed, Al, and Rehnquist.

"That woman makes a blizzard look warm," Brahm commented dryly.

"That's why she's still at Briggs," Breda chuckled. "Compared to her, the winters seem like nothing to the men stationed up there."

"You don't have to antagonize her, Ed," Al shook his head.

Ed shrugged. "I'm just sick of her thinking her opinion means anything outside of her own delusions. Besides, she compared me to Mustang," he glanced over at Roy and smirked. "I couldn't let her get away with that now could I?"

Roy grinned back; obviously as aware as Ed that Ed's real motivations for almost pummeling Olivia earlier involved defending them both. They really were too much alike sometimes. "I'd have had to take her on if you didn't."

"All right, let's get back to work here," Breda sighed. "It's already seven and I'd like to have _some_ chance of tucking the kids into bed tonight."

The rest of the meeting went much faster, mostly going into further details over the necessary logistics for moving men the way they would need to, especially for Ed's group, given they would be moving through jungle area for the first several weeks of their travels. That meant going through areas where the use of motor vehicles would be difficult at best, if not impossible. Ed had to let the idea of pack mules sink in. It had been a while since he'd spent any time around a beast of burden.

"We could use alpacas or llamas," Al suggested. "They're local to the country and more agreeable."

"Excellent suggestion," Brahm made a note.

By the end of the meeting they had a date of departure from Central and a general timeline that they knew would only be good until they engaged the enemy, but it was something to work with. Ed would be taking one Division of 10,000 men, and Armstrong two Divisions of 15,000 men each, which meant they were only committing half of the Amestrian forces to the campaign, at least to start. It meant they had plenty in reserve if the situation went completely haywire, but should be enough to do the job and show they meant business.

"That's enough for tonight," Breda finally called it, rubbing his eyes after staring at the maps for so long. "Let's plan to meet again tomorrow afternoon."

Finally! Ed was glad to get out of the room and headed immediately for the doors, with Al walking behind him. Roy came up on Al's other side, matching step and obviously had something else to say though he waited until they were out of hearing range of the others.

"I think you're both insane," Roy commented when they were alone. "If you get into combat, chances are it's going to be like Ishbal."

"You don't think I can handle it." Ed commented acerbically, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Roy head on. Both of the other men stopped walking too.

Roy's expression became surprisingly sincerely pained. He spoke quietly. "I know what Ishbal did to me, Ed, and to so many others. I'm still dealing with it even after all this time.

"Then why didn't you object back there?" Ed asked him.

Roy sighed. "Because, other than myself, you're the ones I would have chosen as best qualified to lead a mission like this."

"Like Breda said," Al nodded somberly, "We do our duty knowing what it may do to the people carrying out our orders."

Ed was actually touched by Roy's concern. "Look," he smiled, "The whole reason it should be me and Al is to keep this from_ becoming_ another Ishbal."

Roy nodded. "And if anyone can manage that, it would be you two. All right," he shook his head. "I just hope you don't regret it later."

"It would just be another thing on my list of regrets," Ed pointed out.

"I'm more worried about tonight," Al admitted with a soft chuckle. "I doubt Elicia is going to be very happy with me about this."

Hell. That was one thing Ed had entirely forgotten. He grimaced slightly, but stifled the expression, though there was growing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. "I guess I'd better get home and tell Winry."

* * *

It was almost nine o'clock by the time Ed got home. Winry had been tired enough lately that he almost dared to hope that she had decided to call it a night early. No such luck though, both Winry and Ethan were in the living room when he came in the front door, and Winry was on her feet before he'd even had time to unbutton his uniform jacket.

"Well, what happened?" she asked, concern all over her face. "When you said late I didn't think they'd keep you this long."

"Just a minute," Ed said. "Let me get out of this thing and I'll tell you everything." He undid the collar of his jacket and then the rest of it, hanging it on the coat rack and then undid the top button of his collared uniform shirt and kicked off his boots. "Do you have anything to eat?" he asked pitifully as he finished. "We didn't really break for dinner."

"I'll get it," Ethan jumped up off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

"There's still roast left," Winry assured him. "Okay,_ now_ will you tell me what's going on, Edward?"

Ed sighed and sat down at the table. "It's war for sure. This evening was entirely strategy and logistics."

"You mean we're actually invading?" Ethan gasped from the kitchen, his wide-eyed face peering back around the corner.

"That's right," Ed confirmed, and he saw the horrified look in Winry's eyes. "We're going in after the people who are trapped by the border closing. But that's not all of it. We're also making a push in from further East and cutting down to Bueáire to take care of this new government. They're no better than the old one, and the reports say they're killing people who oppose them."

He looked away from Winry's face as he spoke, but he could hear the suspicion in her voice when she finally spoke up. "You keep saying _we_, Edward."

There was no way to avoid telling her, and putting it off any longer would only make her madder and prolong the situation. Ed knew that from experience. "That's because I'm in charge of the Eastern force," he admitted. He braced for the impact he had come to expect. First there would be the outraged ranting and the '_how could you_s' and then it would turn to the litany of what could happen and how_ dare _he do this without consulting her about it first. Yeah, it was an old song and dance at this point.

Ed was entirely unprepared for Winry's _actual_ response. She stared at him in abject silence for several seconds, then simply burst out sobbing and ran from the room. He stared after her, stunned for several moments before he came to his feet. "Wait, Winry!" he followed her up the stairs. The bedroom door was open. Inside, he found her lying on the bed face down with her arms wrapped around her pillow, crying so hard her entire body shook. Whoever said that big girls didn't cry had never dealt with one as emotional as Winry! Ed hesitated, then crossed the room and sat down gingerly at the end of the bed. He had been expecting shouting, maybe a few knocks to the head, not _this._ "Winry?" he tentatively reached his hand out and rested it on her shoulder.

Winry jerked away from his hand but gave him no further response.

Ed tried again, but got the same reaction. "Winry… please, don't cry." He finally just started talking quietly and he hoped she would listen. "It's only supposed to take a few months, if that, and most of it we'll be out in the middle of nowhere. I'll be careful, I promise. Besides, Al's going with me this time, so you know it'll be all right. Really it's not that big of a deal."

The stinging open palm slap seemed to come out of nowhere, but the next thing Ed knew, his right cheek_ hurt_ and his ears were ringing. His auto-mail hand came up instinctively to the spot. The cool metal actually felt good against his skin. "That's more the reaction I was expecting," he admitted. He deserved that at least. "Well, that and more yelling about why I shouldn't go." Okay, he probably shouldn't have called it no big deal. Winry hated being patronized.

"Would it make you change your mind?" Winry sniffled, finally speaking.

"Well, no," Ed admitted. "It's already been decided."

"Then what's the point of bringing it up again?" Winry glared at him, her beautiful blue eyes rimmed with pink.

Ed felt a familiar twinge of guilt. "I haveto go, Winry. You understand that, right?"

"You always _have_ to go," she snorted, rolling back over and curling up around her pillow, her back to him.

Her attitude was getting to him. As bad as he felt about upsetting her, Ed found himself more than a little irritated. All he had wanted was a chance to explain before she over-reacted. "Fine, I _want_ to go," he snapped. "Is that what you want to hear? Yes, I volunteered for command." She didn't respond. "I'm not going to sit by and watch other people die doing their duty when I should be the one making those decisions and helping save people's lives. I thought you understood that by now." Before he lost his temper any further, Ed turned and stormed out of the room.

At a loss for anything better to do, Ed went back downstairs. Ethan had finished reheating food and there was a heaping plate of roast pork and mashed potatoes on the table. Despite the churning in his stomach brought on by anger, hunger won out and Ed sat down. He was several bites into his food before he realized that Ethan was sitting at the table too, looking concerned. Ed swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. "What?" he asked, not snapping now, but sharper than he'd intended.

Ethan shrugged. "Mom's really upset, isn't she?"

"Yeah." Ed sighed heavily. "You understand why I'm going, don't you?" He looked at his son then, hoping at least one member of the family understood.

Ethan nodded somberly. "Well yeah. It's what we do isn't it? You go out and you help people, and how you do that depends on the job. You're a State Alchemist and a General. It makes sense that you'd go."

"I wish your mother saw it that way." Ed shoved another bite of pork into his mouth. Ed had always been consistent when it came to this kind of thing. He had figured that, by now, she would have gotten used to it.

"She's probably afraid that you'll get killed," Ethan said. "I mean, even when we went to Xing on a peaceful mission we ended up getting shot at and we could have been killed."

It was true. Ed did tend to find himself drawn naturally into dangerous situations. Or perhaps it was more because he always _chose_ to get involved. But what else could he do? "There's always that chance," Ed pointed out. "I mean, Winry almost died in that stupid car crash."

"Exactly," Ethan replied. "If something like that can happen, how can you really reassure anyone that you _won't_ die, or promise to come back for sure? People say it all the time, but they can't actually be held to that kind of promise, can they?"

Ed stopped mid-chew and stared at his son. "Kid, you are too insightful for your own damned good."

Ethan grinned impishly. "I'll take that as a compliment. So," he sobered again slightly. "When do you have to leave?"

"Early October," Ed replied, returning to his food, "So barely two weeks. There's a lot to do in that time too, but we have to move quickly." If they didn't, than the risk to their people and their trapped allies likely went up. Once they actually attacked, that number would go up exponentially.

Ethan sat there the whole time Ed was eating his food, though he seemed lost in thought, not saying much else. Finally, when Ed was done, Ethan took his plate from him and took it into the kitchen. "I've got some reading to do," Ethan said when he came back out. "I've got a book to finish for school. Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Ethan," Ed echoed as he watched the boy go into his room. As usual, Bounce followed him, her tail wagging. Then Ed's eyes turned to the stairs and he felt a heaviness on his heart. He just hoped that Winry would talk to him. Despite the sureness he felt that he _should_ be the one leading this mission, that didn't mean he wasn't nervous. He had concerns; plenty of them, but the only person he wanted to share his feelings with was upstairs and mad as hell at him.

Still, there was nothing else to be done unless he wanted to give up and sleep on the couch or in the guest room, and Ed had no intention of doing either. He went back upstairs and opened the bedroom door. Winry had changed for bed and curled up on her side under the covers, still facing away from the door.

"Winry?" Ed called out softly. "Are you still awake?"

"Are you still an idiot?" she replied after a moment, sounding tired.

Ed stomped hard on his temper, reminding himself that she had the right to be upset with him. He had been expecting it after all. "Depends on who you ask," he replied as neutrally as he could manage. "Can I come to bed?"

"If you insist." There was none of the playfulness that usually accompanied the response.

Normally conversations like this were lighthearted banter, usually followed by cuddling, often by sex. Tonight, Ed was sure there would be none of that. He took her words as assent and stripped down to his shorts before crawling into bed and turning off the lamp on his side of the bed, sending the room mostly into darkness. Within moments though his eyes adjusted and the moonlight outside the window was enough to outline most of the objects in the room. Ed lay facing Winry's back, his eyes tracing the lines and curves that his hands didn't dare to touch tonight. Winry would probably be fine tomorrow when she wasn't so tired. Maybe he _should_ have waited and told her in the morning, when they were both better rested.

Still, he couldn't leave it like this. He risked getting smacked again and reached out with his hand, laying it gently against her back. "I love you," was all he said as he closed his eyes.

Beneath his hand some of the tension seemed to go out of her. "I love you, too," she whispered.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Brigadier General Hal Brewster sound familiar? Ed's met him before. For a refresher check out Story 3b: United Front. He was a Colonel back then.


	3. Chapter 3

**September 16****th****, 1951**

The next morning, while not _happy_, was at least less volatile in the Elric household. Winry got up and made breakfast; several of Ed's favorite dishes that Ed took as a silent apology for her reaction the night before. He thanked her, and they ate in companionable quiet for most of the meal other than asking Ethan about his day and Ed giving as dispassionate an account as possible of the schedule for the next two weeks. Ethan headed off to school early, wanting to hit the library on the way over. When he was gone, Winry finally commented on the subject of the night before as he was getting ready to go. "So I shouldn't expect you home for dinner tonight either." It was not a question.

"Probably not," Ed admitted regretfully as he hugged her. To his relief, she let him. "This afternoon's meeting will probably run long."

Winry nodded. "I thought so." Her hand picked a piece of lint off his uniform. "I'd feel better if it were the red coat," she commented softly after a moment. "It's probably silly, but I would."

"So would I," Ed gave her a sad smile as he stepped back. "But this is more than just alchemists' business. It's orders now. I'd better go." He let go of her reluctantly. "See you tonight."

"See you," Winry replied softly, her words following him out the door.

* * *

The morning was a flurry of activity. On top of the class he was scheduled to teach for the students and a much-more-serious sparring session with some of the State Alchemists, Ed had the little business of Marcus Kane's promotion to take care of. He waited until after the sparring session was over, since Marcus had been a part of the class. After everyone had showered and gotten dressed, Ed pulled Marcus aside with a simple, "We need to talk."

"Is something wrong, Fullmetal?" Marcus asked as they walked down the hall towards Ed's office.

"Other than this whole situation you mean?" Ed smirked humorlessly.

"Well yeah," Marcus nodded. Ed knew he had already received his official orders to serve under Armstrong first thing that morning, but that Breda had not mentioned Marcus' new rank in those orders. "I really hoped we wouldn't see real combat again in our lifetime," he admitted. "Not that I'm upset about going," he hastened to add. "Frankly I'm flattered the President wanted me in that position, and that Strong Arm agreed."

"That's good," Ed said as he opened his door and waited for Marcus to precede him in. Then he closed it behind them both. "Because President Breda set one condition on your going."

"Condition, Sir?" Marcus frowned, looking confused. "There was no mention of a condition in my orders. That's highly irregular isn't it?"

"Depends," Ed chuckled. Al had been roped into Major General before the Xing mission. He went over to his desk and opened the desk drawer. "Breda's got his own way of doing things you know. He's got this dumb idea about the uniforms."

"Uniforms?" Now Marcus looked totally lost and Ed could barely keep from laughing as he nodded.

"Yep. It seems yours requires a particular modification." He held out the two loops of fabric he had pulled out of his desk; a thicker strip of solid gold ran down each; Generals stripes. "You'll need to adjust the number of stars you're wearing, Brigadier General."

Marcus Kane was as hard to surprise as Roy Mustang. It was one of the things that made him the right person to fill Mustang's old slot for so many years. Catching him entirely off guard almost made the whole ordeal of going to war worth it for the look on his face. "Th—thank you," Marcus finally reached out and took the insignia. "This isn't just because of the war, is it?"

Ed shook his head. "Frankly, Kane, it's long overdue in my opinion. It's up to you which alchemists you want under your command personally. Other than the ones Al and I have already picked for ourselves," he added with a grin. "Though I know we didn't take all the good ones."

"That would be pretty hard to do, given that you trained every one of us personally," Marcus grinned back, "Including me."

"Which would explain why you can _occasionally _beat me," Ed teased. "Good luck, Kane, and be careful. I'd hate to see all that training go to waste. Besides," he added, "How would it reflect on my training if the alchemists didn't come back alive?"

"Pretty bad for all of us," Marcus agreed, teasing back, though they could both sense the emotions behind their words. They had been in combat together before. "Though I have to say, Sir, as much as I respect the Strong Arm Alchemist, I wish it was you I was following into combat, like last time."

"Look what that got you," Ed shook his head. Captured and tortured, if not to the same extent. "Your talents and skills are better suited to the Northern objective, Kane. Frankly, it's the better assignment," he grinned again. "Havah's quite the vacation spot. Holding up there shouldn't be nearly as unpleasant as slogging through the jungle for weeks on end."

Kane laughed. "You know, I've never been. Though I certainly didn't expect this to be how I made my first visit." He saluted smartly then. "Thank you, Sir. With your permission, I'd like to get down to work."

"Of course," Ed saluted him back. "I'll expect your finished rosters and report on my desk by tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes sir, Fullmetal." Kane grinned as he headed out the door. Ed watched him go and just hoped that when they parted and headed into combat it would not be for the last time. He felt that way about everyone he had spoken with so far today. There wasn't a face, friend or otherwise, that he really wanted to see lost and fallen in battle, but then that was the nature of war, the real cost. He sighed and then headed out again. He had just enough time to get to the Mess and eat lunch before the meeting. He had a feeling this one would be a lot longer than the one the night before.

* * *

Edward turned out to be right. The meeting lasted for five hours, ending not long after six in the evening. By then though, they had a full plan. Now they just had to hope it worked. Ed was sure everyone in the room had the whole thing memorized step by step already. The Northern force served multiple purposes. The first, of course, was to push through the primary Aerugean line and re-establish the rail and road routes down to Havah and evacuate every Amestrian, Cretan, Xingese, and Drachman in the place who wanted to go. Orders were clear though; there would be no expatriating Aerugeans during that mission. It was outside the objectives and would only complicate the political situation, as much as it obviously hurt Breda to make that call. Once the Northern force had pushed down to Havah, they were to secure the city and hold it, using it as a base of operations within Aerugo itself to continue the push down the lines to the Capitol. The first part would be accomplished using only about two thirds of Armstrong's men, allowing the rest of the 30,000 to come down to Havah and fight southward with fresh troops.

Meanwhile, Edward and Alphonse would lead the Eastern division – being from Resembool, Ed was rather partial to the name – down into the jungle covered hills of Eastern Aerugo until they hit the river, then follow the river down into the field covered plains nearer the Capitol, finally pushing into Bueáire. If they did things right, while the Aerugean government was concentrating on Armstrong's obvious threat, Ed and his 10,000 men should be able to sneak in almost to the city before meeting strong opposition, and then it would be too late. Taking the city would be a matter of some ugly, but hopefully brief, fighting. Ideally, the two groups would meet up in Bueáire within a couple of weeks of each other.

Of course, no battle plan really lasted past the first engagement, but this one was based on sound principles and as many previously proven tactics as possible. The Northern force would be impossible to ignore, and would certainly require the majority of the Aerugean army to slow them down. It was also a flexible plan, with contingencies and alternatives built in for every eventuality they could come up with. With Breda, Mustang, Brahm, and the rest of them looking at the scenario, it counted up to quite a few alternatives. There were still plenty of things to do, and it would probably change several more times before they even left Central, but the major elements were set and they knew what they needed to have in the manner of supplies and numbers. It was getting everything together that would take time now.

Breda had already talked to Creta about possibly providing a third distraction by making noises along their own border, or possibly being willing to be a third point and push an attack towards Creta themselves, but Argyros – Creta's long time president – had retired just the year before, and the new President, while honoring their alliance in every way, proved unwilling to risk Cretans unnecessarily and without a lot more information about the political situation. Drachma had said the same thing; they were staying neutral. Xing was too far away to be much assistance, especially with the new railroad still under construction. Amestris would go this one alone for now.

"How did Winry take the news?" Al asked as they left the meeting, heads full to bursting with critical information.

"She's mad, as I expected," Ed sighed. "But she was civil this morning. I think I just caught her at a bad time last night."

"I figured that from your face this morning," Al chuckled a little, tapping his own cheek in reference. "It looked a little tender."

"Oh that." Ed had honestly almost forgotten about the slap. It was Winry's tears that stuck with him. He was used to her crying when she was upset or angry, but he wasn't used to her being entirely incomprehensible and dissolving into sobs the way she had last night. "It was nothing. What about Elicia?"

"She doesn't like the idea of war anymore than the rest of us," Al replied. "But she understands why I'm going. Though she said if I get shot again she'll kill you herself," he added with a broad grin.

Ed shook his head, mildly amused. "I'm sure she will. What about the kids?"

"Will was expecting it, I think," Al replied. "Alyse was pretty torn up about it though. She's worried about me and you too," he added. "And Sara. You think Sara will get orders too?"

"I'm almost certain of it," Ed replied, frowning momentarily. He knew his daughter could handle the job. She had already fought in one war when she was only fourteen, and she had been working under Kane for years. He would have bet money that Kane took Sara with him but no one had been foolish enough to make a bet with him on it. "I haven't talked to Sara about this," he admitted. He hadn't called Aldon yet either. He needed to do both, but he didn't know when he would have the time. There was just too much to do, and so many things he did – and didn't – want to think about.

**September 17****th****, 1951**

Brigadier General Marcus Kane sat at his desk waiting for the alchemists he had requested to arrive. It had taken him very little time to assign alchemists to the long list of units that had been waiting on his desk. At least, for a lot of them it was just a matter of picking alchemists with the right skills to support troops of regular infantry. For others though, some higher positions and more prominent units in the battle plan, he had been much more selective. He had given out orders to most of them already, but now there were just a few left, and all ones he wanted to talk to personally. The next three would all be working in units directly under his personal command.

It wasn't long before Maes Mustang, Calvin Fischer, and Sara Elric stood in front of him in line, all at attention, though all obviously wondering what orders they were about to receive. Marcus looked at them contemplatively before speaking. Maes looked slightly anxious, Cal a little eager. Sara looked alert, ready, and all business; just what Kane had come to expect from the Twilight Alchemist.

"Firebrand, Whitewater, Twilight," Marcus looked at each of them in turn. "I'm sure by this point you already have a pretty good idea why I've called you in here."

"Yes, Sir," they chorused.

"Good, that makes things easier." Kane pulled out the envelopes that contained orders and held them out, one at a time for them to take. "Given your experiences in the field, you're all too valuable to lose, but far too useful to leave behind." The comment was met with a smirk from Cal. Neither of the others said a word. "These are your units and your orders. All three of you will be in troops directly under my command, which means you'll likely all be working closely together." At that, he noticed Sara twitch, and Cal and Maes shoot each other glances. "If you have any objections, get over them now. I need the three of you to work as a team." Yes, he knew that Maes and Cal hated each other. He was aware that Sara held some dislike for Cal that even Marcus did not know the reasons behind, but personal feelings meant nothing in combat.

"Yes, sir," they chorused once more. Well, at least they could do that much. Marcus waited then while each one took their orders out and read them. Maes frowned slightly then looked resigned. Cal was smirking. Sara read hers through once, then a second time, looking mildly perplexed.

"Something wrong, Twilight?" Marcus asked her, smiling.

"No, Sir," Sara shook her head. "It just wasn't what I expected."

Of course it wasn't. Marcus looked at Maes and Cal. "You two should report to your commanding officers now for further instructions." Both of the men saluted and left, shooting curious glances at Sara as they went out the door. When the door closed behind them, Marcus relaxed. "Since I _am_ your commanding officer, consider yourself having reported."

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Sara asked formally, a sure sign that she was nervous.

"Do you ever speak otherwise?" Marcus chuckled.

"This is a command position," Sara tapped her orders with one hand. "A full battalion? Do you really think I'm ready for this?"

"I wouldn't have given it to you otherwise," Marcus replied, keeping things straight forward. "You've actually got combat experience that a lot of alchemists don't, and you've proven yourself repeatedly in tight situations. You're good with people, and you don't take crap from anyone. You also know how to employ the strategies we need and how to give orders as well as follow them." He smirked a little. "I've heard about how effective you are at getting reports out of people around here. Do you think you can't handle it?"

"I didn't say that," Sara snorted, a more confident smile coming to her face. "I'll make you proud, Sir."

"Just keep us all alive," Marcus chuckled.

"One more thing," Sara said, her smile fading again. "Why team me up with Maes and Cal? Or those two together in the first place? You know they don't get along."

"It's the combination of knowledge and skills," Marcus replied honestly. "Personal likes have not entered into my decisions much. I also know I can trust the three of you to be professional soldiers above anything else. Your pride and your sense of duty won't let you do otherwise no matter how much you dislike each other for any reason."

Sara looked thoughtful. "You're right," she said finally. "I'm sorry for questioning your judgment."

"Were you?" Marcus smirked. "I didn't notice. We'll talk logistics more tomorrow. Right now, I've got work to finish. You're dismissed, Twilight."

* * *

As soon as she left Kane's office, Sara went looking for her father. She had meant to talk to him ever since finding out he was actually _leading_ the Eastern force, and Uncle Al with him! But she had been busy and she hadn't been home in the evenings. If her father had tried to call, he had missed her completely. Now, even more than before, she desperately wanted to talk to him. He was, fortunately, in his office though he looked like he was on his way out when she opened the door. "Is this a bad time?" Sara asked, pausing in the doorway.

Ed blinked, then shook his head and smiled. "Of course not. Come on in. What's up?"

"I got my orders," Sara said, holding up the envelope. "Did you know about this?"

"I figured you'd be getting some," her father nodded then shrugged. "But I don't know what they are."

"Kane gave me a command position," she handed the orders over and let her father read them for himself.

Ed's eyebrows raised a little. "Congratulations, Sara."

"Is that all you're going to say?" She asked, mildly incredulous.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, meeting her question with one of his own. "You're more than ready for it. Far more ready than I was when Mustang tossed me up on the Northern border and told me to keep the Drachma mess from turning into a _real war._ I'm not going to say I'm upset that you're going. I don't want to lose you, but that's why this wasn't my decision. You're a State Alchemist and a soldier. My personal feelings can't stand in the way of your career or what Amestris needs."

Sara listened to what he said, and she had to admit she couldn't find fault in it. Of course he didn't want her to die, but he would never stand in her way either. She moved forward then, hugging him tightly. They were going into war again, this time as equals, but the uncertainty of it all still made her feel like she was fourteen. Ed hugged her back just as tightly. "Tell me one more thing," Sara said finally when she stepped back, a little embarrassed by her own emotions. "Why are you doing this, Dad?"

"You think it's a dumb idea too, don't you?" Ed asked her, and Sara couldn't bring herself to say no. She would never forget the months after the Xing War, and what had been done to her father, and how their whole family had suffered because of it. "Well, that's probably because it _is_ a really dumb idea on my part probably. Most of them are," he smirked. "But that doesn't make it any less necessary. It's an ugly situation no matter how we look at it, but if nothing else, I know that this is something I need to do, and that I _should_ be doing this. Whether I'm following my instincts or my own stupid pride I can't promise one way or the other, but I was the only one who stood up and volunteered to take it on."

"The only one?" Sara felt a little stunned. There were plenty of Generals in Amestris' military with the experience to lead something like this.

Ed nodded. "No one else wanted the job. It's almost a guaranteed career killer for most anyone else. Who else has a chance of standing up to that kind of criticism?"

_Or was willing to give up his military career for the sake of civilians. _Sara didn't like the idea of her father heading off into battle again. Like so many others she knew, she couldn't imagine how it could possibly be good for Ed. Still, this wasn't about what was good for any one person, but the people as a whole, Amestrian and otherwise, who were suffering because of this situation. They both knew that. "You're crazy," she sighed finally. "But you wouldn't be you if you weren't, so I guess I have to accept your answer."

"When it's all over, you can tell me I told you so all you like," he smirked. "But right now, I've got to get to a meeting. Come over for dinner this weekend all right? We should spend some time together before things get even crazier."

As she watched her father stride out the door, full of energy despite the chaos, Sara was struck with two thoughts at once. The first being that she could scarcely imagine things being any crazier around HQ; the second that she just desperately hoped that she would have the opportunity to tell her father those_ I told you so's,_ and that they would also prove unnecessary.

She left her father's office and headed back towards her own. There was a lot to do but, most importantly, tonight she needed to tell Franz that she was going to the war.

**September 24****th****, 1951**

The next week was absolute chaos. Edward never made it home before seven for the rest of the week, and even the weekends were scheduled. With himself, Alphonse, and Alex Armstrong going to the front, Ed had to arrange for all of the State Alchemist Exam preparation classes to be covered for the duration of the war. He left Miriam Golan, the Prism Alchemist, in charge of the program as far as lab classes and paperwork went. She pretty much ran those herself anyway, and he could trust her to complete all the paperwork reliably. Using the alchemists who were staying behind for various reasons, Ed managed to get everything covered. He spent a lot of time filling them in on their new duties as well between meetings in Breda's conference room, now regularly referred to as the War Room. He also spent any spare moments in the gymnasium, working with the alchemists who were going into combat, and honing his own skills as well. None of them could afford weaknesses now.

It was almost a shock for Ed to find himself done for the day a little early the next Wednesday. There were no more meetings scheduled for the afternoon, no more classes, and he had finished all the paperwork waiting on his desk that hadn't already been farmed out to Miriam. All he was handling now was war related materials, and those had to be off his desk fast enough that they never really piled up.

Ed would have been a fool not to take advantage of the rare opportunity to get home in time for dinner! He thought about calling out as he came in, but then decided it might be more fun to sneak in and surprise Winry. He doubted Ethan would be home yet. Maybe he and Winry could finally get a little _personal_ time together. That had been ridiculously non-existent since the whole mess had started, and Ed wanted to spend as much time with Winry as he could before he left for the world only knew how long.

So he took of his coat, slipped off his boots, and padded around the corner in his stocking feet. Winry was in the kitchen making a cup of tea. With all the stealth he had, Ed snuck up behind her and then wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing up against her back. "Hey, beautiful," he whispered in her ear, keeping his arms tight as she jumped and squeaked.

A moment later she relaxed. "You surprised me," she commented petulantly but, to Ed's relief, she didn't pull away. "What are you doing home?"

"I told the whole Amestrian military they could shove it, I had to get home and make love to my wife," Ed chuckled.

"Oh you did not," Winry sighed in exasperation, but Ed thought she sounded at least a little pleased.

"All right," he admitted. "We got done early for once. But the second part was true." He would be leaving in a week and every attempt at romance he had made had been thwarted by work, time, or Winry being mad at him. Heck, this was the first time he'd been able to get her in a position like this in a couple of _weeks_. "So what do you say?" he asked, untucking her blouse with one hand and running his fingers lightly across her stomach.

"I don't know…" Winry objected, but not very hard. "Ethan will be home soon."

"He's fourteen," Ed smirked, enjoying the fragrance of her hair as it tickled his nose. "You think he doesn't know?" Heck, their son had helped deliver his own nephew. He had a pretty good idea of how all that stuff worked. Ed closed down around her waist again with his arm. It felt …different than he remembered. "Hey?" he asked without thinking, momentarily distracted. "Have you put on weight?"

_Wrong question._ Though Ed realized it too late as Winry yanked away from him, her expression anger and hurt as she turned to glare at him wordlessly before she spun and left the kitchen.

_Shit. _"Wait! I didn't say it looked bad I—" Ed tried to explain, but Winry had already stormed out of the room, slamming her workshop door shut behind her. Ed heard the lock click. "Good going, Elric," he grumbled at himself, running the palm of his hand down his face. "At this rate I'm going to be eating my socks for the rest of my life." Lately it seemed like any time he was about to get anywhere with Winry, he opened his mouth and stuck his foot in it instead. What was frustrating was that usually he wasn't entirely sure if the problem in communication was him or her. This time though, it was definitely him. It was probably the stress lately. It was affecting everyone.

Ed finished making the tea and sweetened it the way Winry liked it. Then he poured himself a cup, put them on a small tray, and took them both over to her office door. "Winry?" he knocked with his free hand.

"Go away, Edward." Winry's voice was muffled by the door. Yep, she was definitely still mad. He was getting used to those words.

"Look, I'm sorry," Ed said through the door. "That didn't come out right."

For several moments there was silence, then footsteps and the door unlocked. "And just how were you going to say that in a way that wasn't completely insulting?" Winry asked as she opened the door and looked out at him.

"Okay, so maybe there isn't a good way," Ed admitted, holding out the tray. "I said it didn't come out right," he smiled weakly. "I don't want to fight." After next week, he wouldn't even see her much less get the chance to talk to her. His command would be maintaining mostly radio silence save for necessary communications as they got deeper into Aerugo. It was necessary that they remain a surprise for as long as possible.

Winry took the cup of tea. "I don't either," she replied after a moment. "I'm sorry too. I over-reacted."

"It was an insensitive remark," Ed shrugged apologetically. "I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"Yes, you should have," Winry agreed, sipping her tea. There was a slightly playful look in her eyes as she watched him over the rim of her cup.

"I don't suppose you know any better ways to do that?" Ed asked, daring a little subtle flirtation again. Maybe today wasn't a total loss.

The front door slammed. "Hi Dad! Hi Mom," Ethan grinned as he spotted them in the entry hall. "I'm glad you're both home early. Does that mean we're actually having dinner together tonight?"

Ed stifled his disappointment, as well as his frustrated urges as Winry shrugged at him with an apologetic glance. "Sure does," Ed turned and smiled at his son. He wasn't going to miss out on time with Ethan either, especially not as a family. He would have another shot at Winry later. At least, he hoped so!

**September 28****th****, 1951**

That was it. Everything Sara would need for _who knew how long _was packed away in one military issue rucksack. It was amazing how small everything packed down when she was limited to wearing field uniforms. Anything that they needed other than personal items would be handled by the quartermasters. She was packed, she had her orders, and she left tomorrow on the mid-day train with Armstrong, Kane, and the rest of their command, including her own battalion of soldiers.

Sara had spent every day since receiving her orders getting to know the men and women who would be serving under her, and she had been relieved that they took her seriously and were well trained. She had half been afraid that Kane would stick her with a group of rookies, but her fears had proved unfounded.

"That's it," she sighed as she dropped the bag by the door and turned around to look at Franz, who was setting dinner out on her table. She couldn't help smiling. "It's sweet of you to cook."

"It's the least I could do on our last night together for a while," Franz smiled back, leaving off on preparations to come over and gather her close in his arms. They hugged tightly. It was one of many times they had over the past couple of weeks, but each one felt like it was the last, and that made Sara want as many of them as possible. "I'm not the one going off to battle this time."

"Breda needs _someone_ competent still in Central," Sara agreed with a chuckle. "Besides," she made herself keep smiling if only so she wouldn't give in to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her and start crying, "Every soldier needs a special someone at home to come back to right?"

"Right," Franz tilted her face up with one hand and kissed her warm and deep until she was sure she would melt. It was a feeling she loved. When they parted, he didn't let go of her. "Though it seems a little strange being the _pretty thing_ left at home."

Sara snorted back a laugh, but Franz's joke had done what she suspected was his intention, and she wasn't close to crying anymore. "You're horrible," she giggled, smacking him playfully in the chest with one hand. "You're that incredibly cute nerd I outrank who enjoys the pleasures of my bed."

"Oh of course, how presumptuous of me," Franz laughed. "To think I might at least rate a photo in your pocket and a few kind words."

"How about we spend the rest of the evening in the bedroom and call it good?" Sara chuckled softly, her throat catching again.

"Not that I'm opposed," Franz replied, "But what about dinner? I may not be a gourmet chef, but who knows when you're going to get a decent home-cooked meal."

"Afraid I'll starve?" Sara asked, trying to keep things light.

"Frankly, yes," Franz's hands ran down her sides and rested on her hips. "You're all muscle and bone as it is."

"Most guys like that," Sara smirked, though she was glad he cared. He wasn't the only one who scolded her about being lean. Her father did too from time to time still. Of course, she had gotten that particular trait from him, so she supposed it was only fair.

"As you've commented before," Franz said. "I'm not most guys."

"Thank goodness for that," Sara kissed him again. She would eat dinner, eventually. For now, what she wanted most was to fill up on all the love she could get before they were separated.

**October 2****nd****, 1951**

"So much for being well rested for tomorrow," Alphonse chuckled tiredly as he wrapped his arm around Elicia's shoulders. It was late, almost midnight now, but he wasn't sure that, even thoroughly exhausted, he would be able to sleep.

Elicia snuggled into his side under the sheets, her soft skin velvet warmth against his. "You can sleep on the train," she chuckled softly, though Al heard a small hitch in her voice. He knew this was hard on his wife. While Al had been on plenty of missions, he had never purposefully gone into a combat situation in all the years they had been a couple. Elicia had been quieter lately, and they had spent a lot more time together, even than usual. Al knew she was unhappy about him going, but she had only voiced that objection once. She knew he wouldn't let Ed go off alone again, and neither of them wanted to waste the time they had until he left arguing.

It had been an emotional evening for the whole family. They had stayed up later than usual, and both Will and Alyse had insisted that they would be going in late to school. They _would _be at the train station to see their father off in the morning. Most of the talking was already done. All that was left were the good byes, and those would wait until the last possible moment.

Eventually, Al and Elicia had retreated to the privacy of their bedroom. "I guess I can at that," Al replied softly. "Does that mean you're not done with me yet tonight?"

"I'm not sure," Elicia admitted, draping her arm across his chest. "At least as far as that goes," she added with a playful twitch of her leg against his. "I'll never be done with you, Alphonse."

"Good," Al kissed her cheek, feeling a little drowsy. Thank goodness. He didn't know what he would ever do without her. "I look forward to the welcome I'll get when I come home then." As rarely as he had been away from Elicia, every day always seemed like an eternity. Al was sure this time would be no different.

"It will definitely be worth coming back for," Elicia tilted her head and caught his lips with hers instead, with one of those kisses that always caught his breath. The light scent of the perfumed soap she used that always drove Al crazy tickled at his nose.

Sleep? Who needed sleep?

* * *

Winry watched Edward as he tossed the last couple of things into his bag. "Why didn't you pack earlier?" she asked, unable to hide the mild irritation in her voice. It was pretty late.

"I haven't had time," Ed admitted, closing the pack and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Not with getting the training programs organized and handed off to someone else, and getting an entire command organized in only a couple of weeks." _Of course;_ Ed had an entire quarter of the invasion force – it felt so strange to think that – an eighth of all of Amestris' military under his direct command. What man with Ed's capabilities and position in the military would have been able to turn down that kind of opportunity?

"Of course," Winry nodded. She understood the logistics and knew what was going on. She noticed he said nothing about affairs right here at home. Not that he had been home much and, when he had, most of the attention he seemed to want from her was physical. For some reason, that irritated her.

Winry felt bad for turning away a lot of Ed's recent advances, but it would have been obvious to Ed within moments that her heart wasn't in it. The truth was, she felt guilty. Ed said he would miss her and he said that it was duty. Ed said a lot of things. But she had watched him the past couple of weeks. With a mission ahead of him, Ed seemed energized, constantly on the move no matter how he complained about long meetings and stubborn assemblymen.

No matter what Ed _said_, she knew he was eager to be off on another mission, another adventure; another way to be useful. Teaching wasn't enough for him. Being at home in Central wasn't enough. Trying to pin Edward down for longer than a few months – a couple of years if she pushed it – was the most that she could hope to manage before he had to get out for a little while. The short missions had never bothered her. Not even the ones lasting a month or two. It was times like this – when he willingly charged head on into real danger – which she minded.

It hurt that he knew how she felt and still he went. Winry felt selfish for even thinking it, but that did not make her feelings any less real, the facts any less true. Not that she had said a word of it to Ed. He would feel guilty and it would be a distraction he definitely did not need heading off into what, Winry knew, would certainly involve combat.

Ed stripped for bed as she mused, and slid under the sheets, sidling up beside her with a hopeful smile. It was their last night together for what would be months at the least. It had been almost a month, Winry realized in a moment of surprise. No wonder Ed was impatient lately. She didn't resist as he pulled her close and kissed her, his amorousness this evening fully evident. Winry tried to respond in kind, but she just didn't feel it tonight. It was frustrating her as much as it had to be frustrating Edward.

He cut off the kiss after several seconds, his expression questioning, and Winry knew that he had caught her hesitation as well. She watched a look of accepting disappointment settle across his face. "Sorry," he mumbled, letting go and rolling over on his other side, his back to her.

"Ed I…."

"No, don't apologize," he sighed. "It's not necessary. I'm not going to force you when you don't feel like it." It was clear though that he didn't really understand why she didn't, or wouldn't; not tonight.

Winry snuggled up against his back, feeling the warmth of his skin as she fought back tears. She was _not _going to cry tonight. At least Ed didn't pull away. "I'm sorry anyway," she said finally. "I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

That was it then. Ed didn't say anything else and Winry wasn't sure what else to say. It was late, and tomorrow… She didn't want to think about tomorrow. So she lay there in the dark, listening to Ed's breathing as he fell asleep and wishing that there was some way to change tomorrow's events.

**October 3****rd****, 1951**

There was mist all around the train station that morning despite the late morning hour, as Edward and Alphonse prepared to board the train that would carry them and their men and supplies down as far as South City. From there, they would caravan to the border by vehicles. The trains heading for the main front had been leaving for the past two days. As planned, the smaller force would hopefully go unnoticed coming along behind and slipping away from the line of trains in a few days and going their own way.

Sara had left on the first day with her units, and Ed had wished his daughter well. So it was just Winry and Ethan to see him off. A little down the platform, Al hugged Will and Alyse, then pulled Elicia close in a long, passionate kiss. Ed hugged Ethan tight, feeling the strength in his son's return hug. "Take care of your mom," Ed smiled at him, "and keep training."

"I will," Ethan chuckled. "When you get back I'll be able to kick your ass then heal it again."

"I look forward to it." Ed let him go and turned to Winry. Words stuck in his throat. He had never had trouble leaving before. Oh sure, he always missed his family, but saying goodbye felt different today for some reason. Ed was glad he didn't believe in omens. If he did, he wasn't sure whether to consider today's date a good one or a bad one. Instead of trying to find words, he reached out and pulled her into his embrace, hugging her tightly, and was relieved when she hugged him back. "I'll end this as quickly as I can," he finally said. It was the only promise he could make. The same promise he made every time.

"You always do," Winry replied softly in his ear, her voice thick with emotion and stifled tears. "At least this time you're not burning the place when you go," she added then, forcing a brave smile and a joke. So she had noticed the date too. "Come back soon, okay?"

Achingly familiar words, those last. Ed nodded. "Yeah."

The moment passed too quickly, and Ed had to pull away and get back to overseeing everything as people loaded themselves and cargo onto the train. By the time everything was ready, the families were gone.

Edward, Alphonse, and Hal Brewster had a berth to themselves. That was good. It meant they could discuss anything without the concern of being overheard, whether it was classified information, or just not appropriate out of the mouths of superior officers!

"I take it that was your wife on the platform?" Al commented, grinning over at Brewster as the train pulled away. Ed had seen the other man with a pretty brunette, and a large crew he assumed was Brewster's kids and possibly other relatives. Three or four of them definitely looked grown.

Brewster chuckled. "Marina," he nodded, "And the girls."

"So you have daughters," Al said.

"Three of them," Brewster chuckled. "Veronica's twenty-one and she just got married a few months ago. Serena's nineteen and engaged, and Therese is seventeen."

"That must keep life interesting," Ed chuckled, finding himself drawn into the conversation despite the fact that he felt distant from what was happening, his mind wanting to wrap around the past.

"And expensive," Brewster smiled. "We just paid off one wedding, Serena's is coming, and Therese starts at the University next year."

"Sounds like we got off lucky," Al grinned at Ed, then his expression softened a little as he apparently caught Ed's mood. "Is something wrong, Ed?"

"The date," Ed finally said it out loud. "Did you notice, Al? Winry did."

Al blinked, and realization dawned. "You're right. I almost missed it."

"What are you two talking about?" Brewster looked between them, obviously confused.

"You know our story right?" Al looked over at the other man. "About why Ed became a State Alchemist in the first place when we were boys?"

"Some of it," Brewster looked uneasy, caught off-guard by the question. "They still don't seem to know all of it in the news, so I expect even the version the military tells isn't the whole truth."

Ed let Al explain. He didn't feel much like talking. Al kept it short, mentioning only that they had failed at a dangerous transmutation that had resulted in Ed's injuries and Al's attachment to the armor he had once inhabited, and their vow to put things right. "The day we left," Al finally got around to it, "we burned down the house and everything in it. We knew we could never go back, only forward."

"The date was the third of October then," Brewster caught on. "Wow. That's….kind of ominous, given what we're setting out to do."

"Or positive," Al replied, every the optimist. "After all, Ed and I succeeded didn't we?"

"That's true," Brewster agreed. "But I don't really cherish the idea of ever seeing Central burn."

That was what was bothering Ed, he realized. They were leaving, but the intent was different. In the long run, what did that mean for their chances of success?


	4. Chapter 4

**October 8****th****, 1951**

Sara Elric couldn't decide whether to be relieved or find it ominous that the weather was gray and dreary the morning they arrived on the Amestris-Aerugo border. It meant that the enemy could not see them approaching, but it also meant that they could not see the enemy. It was strange to think of the people in front of her as _the enemy._ They were people. They had families and homes and ideals like anyone else. Chances were some of those soldiers were fighting because that was what the government said to do and, no matter who that was, they were loyal to their country.

"The mist would be beautiful if it didn't hide imminent death," Maes commented wryly from beside her as they disembarked from the train with the rest of Marcus Kane's command.

"Well that's cheerful," Cal sniggered from the other side as he joined them. "Why don't you just disperse it with a little heat if it bothers you so much?"

"Oh shut up, Fischer," Maes glared at the other man.

"Both of you can stuff it," Sara stepped out of the line of fire. "Besides, air movement is my specialty. Majors, report to your units," she snapped, making it clear it was time to get to work and she _did_ outrank them.

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel," the two replied in unison, though Cal sounded mildly petulant and Maes possibly amused.

Sara watched them go then turned as her own second, Major Paul Tybalt, walked up. Paul was also about her age, with short dark hair, a friendly smile when the situation allowed for it, and a competent air about him. Fortunately he had proven to be as competent as he seemed. "How long before everyone is unloaded, Major?" she asked as Tybalt saluted.

"Ten minutes, Lieutenant Colonel," he replied, "Right on schedule with the other units."

"Good," Sara nodded. They were part of the front of the main assault, but they were not planning to attack today. There was too much to do in preparation for what might take weeks to accomplish even though the plan was to punch through the barricade quickly and then push south. So they were set up about an hour march from the border itself. Well out of firing range, but a solid position. The Aerugeans would not dare come directly onto Amestrian soil. As long as they didn't, they would be able to claim Amestris attacked first. That was fine though. That was the plan. "Tell them I want camp pitched in the designated area within the hour to textbook specifications and there will be an inspection." There was more than one good reason for that. It gave her one more chance to see just how prepared her men were. It also gave her another chance to meet them on a one on one basis and learn names and faces to go with the ranks on their uniforms. She needed to know these men, and they her. That trust was going to be crucial in the days ahead. With a full battalion under her command, that would not be easy, but she was determined to do her best.

"Yes ma'am," Tybalt saluted again and headed back the way he had come.

Sara found it odd that someone else would be pitching her tent. During her last time on a battle field she had been just one of the soldiers, and on the lowest ranking end at that. But now, as a commanding officer, she supposed having others do that kind of work was something she would earn. As it was, she had a meeting with General Armstrong, Kane, and the other officers in less than twenty minutes, and the last thing she could afford to be was late! So she made herself turn and head towards where the command tent was already going up with surprising speed. There was plenty of work that she was supposed to be doing with the time she had been given.

* * *

Sara was, oddly enough, more at home being one of the lowest ranking officers around her. It helped that she knew about half of them, but there were a lot of faces in the command tent that she was not familiar with. General Armstrong and Brigadier General Kane were the only other two alchemists in the room though, and that was what made her the most nervous. Most alchemists were not military command.

It was not a long meeting, nor a complicated one. They went over the plan as it had been discussed dozens of times on the way down and back in Central for days before they left. Kane's troops would be covering the left flank to try and break the blockade without the armies finding themselves locked on face-to-face for longer than necessary. That meant Sara's units, as well as those containing Maes Mustang and Calvin Fischer, would be in charge of breaking that flank right at the front of Kane's ranks. They assigned reconnaissance duty and then adjourned the meeting.

"You think your men can handle it, Lieutenant Colonel Elric?" Brigadier General Rehnquist asked her as they broke it up. He seemed a decent enough sort, Sara thought. Her father had assured her before she left that he was definitely a quality officer. Still, he gave her a very considering look as he asked the question.

"We will be prepared, Sir," Sara replied, dodging the obvious trap of falling into a yes or no answer. She sensed, she thought, that he was testing her, and she took no offense. In truth, she had been expecting it. Armstrong and Kane both knew her abilities and trusted her implicitly, but she knew that a lot of people would wonder, no matter her credentials, if she had gotten her position because of her father. "Our training has been commendable and well above acceptable minimums in all areas and we drill together well. The true test will, of course, be combat itself, but I have confidence that we will meet our objective." Not they, but we. She would account herself one of them. They were her responsibility, not just to order and control, but to protect as well as her unit's assigned alchemist. There could be no division between them if they hoped to succeed. She had made her feelings on that clear to her new command the first day back in Central.

If it had been a test, Sara seemed to have passed, at least for the moment. Rehnquist nodded his head after a moment. "Given that we have no choice that is good to hear. See that your assessment proves true, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Yes, Sir," Sara saluted as Rehnquist turned and walked away. Sara watched him go with one thought on her mind. General Rehnquist had also used _we._

**October 9****th****, 1951**

"Just what is that thing?" Ed asked, looking at one of the most unusual animals he had ever seen as he watched it stand there, chewing. It looked like someone had crossed a rabbit with a sheep and doubled the length of its legs and neck.

"It's a llama, Ed," Al chuckled. "We're going to be using them for pack animals. They're more native to the area, so it makes sense."

"It's bizarre," Ed watched the llama wearily. Of course he had heard of llamas, but he hadn't seen one live. This one kept eyeing him. "I don't think it likes me."

"Nonsense," Al laughed, stroking the animal's nose. This one was white with soft brown spots. "You're just saying that because no one likes you."

The llama in question was just one of hundreds of pack animals being loaded down with the supplies needed for ten thousand men marching into unknown Aerugean territory. For getting through the low mountains and through the jungle, they would be much more effective than vehicles Ed had to admit having looked at their route on the map hundreds of times now. Not every animal there was a llama, because there just weren't that many readily available on this side of the border, but they did not seem to care that there were plenty of pack donkeys and a few full sized mules interspersed amongst them.

"And here I thought we were done with farm animals when we left Resembool," Ed sighed but nodded. The animals definitely looked healthy if nothing else. "Lieutenant," he barked without bothering to look at the young man standing behind him at stiff attention. "I want an updated status report on our loading situation in the next ten minutes."

"Yes Sir, General." The First Lieutenant jumped and headed up the line at a brisk pace.

Ed couldn't help grinning as he took in a deep breath of the warm morning air. Okay, so the humidity wasn't as refreshing as that same breath would have been in Central, but he had to admit he was enjoying Command. This time, there weren't half a dozen more experienced Generals trying to tell him what to do. If he wasn't in charge of a unit of alchemists, than this was definitely the preferable position to be in.

"You're enjoying this," Al commented with a small smirk.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," Ed admitted. "It's like I can feel the anticipation in the air, Al; the energy and potential. Laid out ahead of us is another journey; another task that needs to be accomplished and a lot of people who will hopefully benefit from that."

Al chuckled. "And people think I'm lying when I say you're really an idealist at heart."

"They should know by now that you don't lie," Ed shook his head. "That's my department." He continued to watch the llama. It seemed to be enjoying having Al pet it. At least if he was reading the body language right. It seemed to react an awful lot like a horse, goat, mule, or really just about any semi-intelligent hoofed beast Ed had ever met.

"That's what I tell them," Al retorted. "But there's that logic conundrum of if I'm lying about it, they can't really tell one way or the other."

"I've never really understood that one," Brewster chuckled as he joined them. "Everything's unloaded from the trucks, Fullmetal, and all the units have their personal supplies ready." It had been over twenty years since Ed had told Brewster he preferred Fullmetal over General, and apparently the other man had never forgotten. It was almost amusing, Ed thought, now that he no longer really minded General. It fit him now.

"I just sent some poor panicked Lieutenant for an update on loading the pack animals," Ed nodded. "But we seem to be right on schedule." They had arrived at their base point late last night and slept in the trucks. Not the most comfortable experience, but Ed hadn't wanted to waste time pitching and then re-packing camp in the morning. Now he was glad they hadn't. It looked like they might get an extra couple of hours of marching in today and he liked the idea of getting a good measure of what kind of pace they could really expect.

"Which means something's going to have to come up to delay us now that you've said that," Al chuckled.

"So you really think we'll be in Bueáire by March?" Brewster asked.

"Depends on how fast we hit the river," Ed replied, thinking. He didn't even need the maps at this point. He could visualize most of the details in his head. "We need to get there by the beginning of November to be on schedule, but that's going to depend on if we can maintain the estimated pace for the next couple of weeks." The pace they had agreed on was actually not as fast as Ed suspected they might be able to go, but he also didn't want to kill his soldiers in the first part of the mission because they were exhausted from hiking through difficult terrain in an unfamiliar climate. This was their leisure time really. It would be their time for getting used to Aerugo without any worries about running into any combat situations. The map showed only a couple of very small farming communities in their way that would be easily avoided. No one would notice their passing in the thick jungle, and they would be avoiding the higher mountains as well, sticking to foothills and valleys that traveled in a relatively straight line down to the river basin.

"It shouldn't be too bad of a hike," Al commented thoughtfully. "Not unless we have to make any major deviations from the route or there's unexpected villages on the map bigger than we're expecting."

"I was assured the map was current within the past year," Ed replied. They had discussed that with the exiles in some detail. "So that would be some serious urban expansion in a very strange part of the country."

They continued talking for several more minutes. Really, the first part of the mission just seemed too easy, despite the fact that it was planned to be that way and because the whole idea was to remain unnoticed as long as possible in land where they could probably have hidden the _entire _Amestrian army without it being found for months if they wanted to keep it that way.

"Generals, I have the report on our current situation." The voice was familiar, and not that of the Lieutenant Ed had sent off not too long ago.

Ed turned and smiled at the familiar face of Matthias Wood, who Ed had been glad to assign as an alchemist under his command. Kane definitely was better suited to Armstrong's needs, but Wood for Ed's purposes in this campaign. "And what's the status on loading up these beasts so we can get out of here?" he asked.

"We'll be ready to go within the half-hour," Matthias replied.

"Excellent," Ed nodded. "Tell the other unit commanders to be ready to march on my order. I—aah!" He jumped as something grabbed at his backside and spun to find himself face to face with the llama.

"Sorry, Ed," Al shrugged, though he was chuckling. "I was checking something on his pack and let the lead loose." Brewster and Wood looked like they both wanted to laugh as well, but were better at holding it in, if only because Ed was still technically their superior officer. Not that he would have done anything to either of them for it.

Ed resisted the urge to rub his sore behind where the llama had bitten him. "Just tell me my uniform is in one piece or he's going to be dog food."

"Is that an order to inspect your rear, Fullmetal…sir?" This time Matthias did burst out in chuckles. It was a very good thing there were no lower ranking officers in the immediate vicinity, or Ed might have made an example out of the man after all; alchemist or not.

"You're pushing your luck, Colonel," Ed grumbled, turning around again, though he kept a wary eye on the llama.

"It's fine, Ed," Al assured him as he finally stopped chuckling.

"Keep a better hold of that thing," Ed sighed. "Better yet, had him off to a subordinate when we get moving."

"You don't like him, do you?" Al shook his head. "He's your personal pack animal."

"And here I thought you were only a sucker for cats," Ed rolled his eyes. He didn't really care if the animal was packing his stuff or not. It was a pack animal, not a pet. "Does it have a name?" he finally gave in a little.

"Well he's kind of small for a llama apparently, so some of the men were calling him Shrimp," Al smirked. "But apparently his name is Cacho."

"And what does that mean?" Ed wasn't familiar enough with the Aerugean dialects to know if it had a particular meaning, but from the way Al was smirking, he wasn't sure he liked it. Still it had to be better than Shrimp.

"It's short for runt."

Then again, maybe not. "Cacho?" Ed looked at the llama, who was certainly strong enough despite being a little smaller than the others in the line nearby. "Call him Cash and if I hear any more small jokes about him tell whoever it is they had better bring them to me so I can explain to them_ personally _why that's a bad idea."

"That should cure them of the urge quickly," Matthias commented. "I'll relay the orders, Sirs." He saluted the three of them then headed off at a brisk walk again, much more relaxed than the poor Lieutenant from earlier who was probably still gathering the information they had just received.

"With the officers I've got on this mission, this might turn into a bad comedic sketch," Ed sighed.

"You hand-picked them," Al pointed out smugly. "So who do you really have to blame for that?"

"Mustang," Ed replied without a second's hesitation.

"How do you figure that?" Brewster asked, clearly confused.

Ed shrugged. "Because he's the one who offered me the job twenty-six years ago, and he's not here to defend himself." Those, he thought, were as good a pair of excuses as any!

**October 10****th****, 1951**

The attack against the border guard that blocked the road and railways into Aerugo began at daybreak. Not that Sara could see anything from their position on the flank for the first hour. The initial clash came as a fairly obvious frontal assault meant to tie up as much of the Aerugean force as possible. It was a feint though, with the real primary force being the units Kane had set off to their left for the flanking assault. The border was not marked by any fence, merely the posts at the road, so crossing the line itself was not difficult. Moving any further past the small army located there was another matter entirely.

Sara waited for their orders as patiently as she could, but her combat senses were on alert, and it was all she could do not to bounce on the balls of her feet as she stood with her men, ready to give the command. On down the line to her left she could just see Maes with the unit he was assigned to, and she knew Cal was beyond that out of sight. Aside from giving orders, she was still expected to act as one of her unit's primary functional alchemists. Every company in her battalion had an alchemist too, so there were four others under her direct command, but she outranked all of them and was the only one with actual battle experience. It was kind of silly, she thought, that she felt more comfortable with the alchemy than the idea of commanding troops into battle, even though she had some training and experienced men.

Fortunately, her men seemed as keyed-up and ready for action as she was. Not that they wanted to die, or to kill, but they were mentally prepared to do their jobs and they just wanted to get down to business. She could see it in their expressions and the set of their shoulders. Sara could almost swear she could feel the anticipation in the air like a tangible thing.

Major Tybalt stood beside her. Of all of them, she thought he looked the most nervous. "First time in combat, Major?" Sara asked.

Tybalt nodded briskly. "Outside of training, Ma'am. I was a little young for the Xing war."

"So was I," Sara smirked ironically. They had both been young teens at the time, but that hadn't stopped her.

"Sorry, Lieutenant Colonel," Tybalt replied, clearly afraid he had somehow offended his superior. "I didn't mean to imply that—"

"Relax, Major," Sara sighed, smiling over at him. Somehow his nerves relaxed her. "Observe, and you'll learn a lot today, including why every one of these units has its own State Alchemist."

"I've heard stories," the Major replied and, though he didn't say anything, she knew from his expression that he meant about her specifically, and the units her father had led in the Xing War. Perhaps he meant too the duel the Fullmetal Alchemist had fought against Ice at Briggs, or even the horror stories of Ishbal.

"Today, you'll get a few to tell yourself." This was the first engagement, and it would set the tone for the whole war. It was then that signal came down the line and the time for conversation came to an abrupt end. They were the leading edge of what would be a wrap-around maneuver on the flank. "Tybalt, pass the order," she said without turning around to look at the men. "A quick march to the designated spot then form up on the line and wait for my order to fire."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel." Tybalt turned and made his way down the line, giving the order. At once, the unit began to move and Sara with them, prepared to act defensively as necessary to make sure her soldiers reached their designated position on time. They were the anchor point. The other two units would come in fast behind them and come around, hopefully while the Aerugeans were too focused on the front and Sara's unit to be prepared for other units coming into their flank. The trees were definitely going to make things interesting, but Sara was glad for the cover they provided and the material for potential transmutations.

The first part of the plan went without any complications. Sara's unit reached their position without being fired upon, and the Aerugeans only noticed them when the ranks formed up and began their own volleys of fire into the enemy. Sara immediately used alchemy to bring up berms of dirt between the trees as best she could to shield her troops. They would not be charging in the near future given this particular maneuver, and she wanted to minimize casualties. They could kneel and be completely out of sight without having to lay belly-down in the dirt.

Once they were covered, Sara ducked down behind the berm as well and prepared her second part of the attack. The same mist was present today as had been yesterday, only thicker, and this morning seemed a very good time for it to _conveniently _condense around their enemy. It made it harder to see them, but it would make it even more difficult for_ them_ to be seen.

Sara had come prepared, gloves on. She tapped her hands together and held them that way as the air around them began to move, pulling towards the Aerugean line and the mist streaming past in long white wisps toward it, folding in around the Aerugeans like a thick woolen blanket. She was glad for the berm as bullets whizzed by overhead even as she transmuted. The sound was unpleasantly familiar.

That blanket was the signal for the next stage of the attack. The unit Maes was in charged forward, moving past them another hundred yards, almost perfectly in line with the edge of the flanked line instead of to the front or side. There was a thundering roar, and a wall of flame sprang up across the ground that dared the Aerugeans to try crossing, but seemed to dance merrily as it failed to burn any of the trees around them all, lapping just too short of the leaves and dodging around trunks like a half-drunk serpent. Definitely the Firebrand Alchemist's work.

The Aerugeans, clearly confused and some frantic with the bizarre weather and flagrant use of alchemy, fired into the flames a few times before realizing that they weren't killing anybody, and then they regrouped and seemed to pull in. At least, that was Sara's assumption when their own shots were no longer heralded by the sounds of the dying. It was time for the units with the Whitewater Alchemist to make their move. Once they were in position, it was a matter of squeezing in on the end of the line and hopefully forcing surrender.

That chance never came. Sara was startled when a second Lieutenant dropped down beside her on the ground panting. "Lieutenant Colonel Elric!" she gasped. "General Kane's on the radio. They're flanking _us_ to the West! He wants to speak with you, Ma'am."

They were what? Well, _shit._ "Noted." Sara nodded and crawled off until she was out of firing range, then got up and walked briskly back to where their communications officer was set up. She grabbed the radio. "What's the situation, Kane?"

"Twilight, I need Franklin's men on the West here, stat!" That was the unit Cal was in. "You and Firebrand _hold that line._ I don't want to see that flank re-established but _do not_ push now. You got that?"

"Hold the line. Understood, Sir," Sara repeated the order so he knew she got it. "Lieutenant," she turned and faced the poor second who had followed her back. "Take word to Lieutenant Colonel Franklin. General Kane says to move his Battalion West now!"

"Yes, ma'am." The woman nodded and ran off again.

"Any further orders?" Sara asked Kane.

"Don't die," Kane replied with a smart aleck remark, though there was no real sarcasm or wit in it. "Don't retreat. Just hold and keep the men alive."

"Understood, Sir." Sara handed the radio receiver back to the Master Gunnery Sergeant in charge of it and made her way back to the line, which seemed to be holding just fine. Thanks to the berm, there was only a handful of injured so far and none dead. At least among her men. She did not know how Lieutenant Colonel Banes' unit, the one to which Maes was assigned, was faring now that shots seemed to be aimed more directly at them once they started firing – making them a target the enemy could aim at. Fire, while flashy and destructive, was not as protective a barrier as a thick layer of compacted dirt.

The entire battle had lasted barely an hour to this point. Sara had always found it eerie how time seemed to lose cohesion during combat. Sometimes moments seemed an eternity, and an hour passed in an instant. From there, time began to drag. Sara saw Franklin's battalion change direction and come past them to the rear, heading quickly for their own right flank to prevent the Aerugeans from pulling the same maneuver. Apparently they had brought more soldiers to bear on that side of their line. Whether they had anticipated Armstrong's strategy or gotten lucky, Sara didn't know. She just hoped they hadn't counted on the number of State Alchemists that had come down with this operation, or the fact that they were all trained for defensive _and _offensive combat strategies.

They held, and the Aerugean line did not try and push back in their direction again, though they continued to exchange fire for the rest of the morning, long after the mist burned off and it would have been too much effort to maintain it with alchemy. It was the height of mid-day when firing ceased on the Aerugean side first. Sara ordered the men to cease fire and save ammunition. The orders that came down from Kane then were to simply wait, and so wait they would.

In the distance, she could still hear guns firing and see the occasional flare of alchemical light.

**October 12****th****, 1951**

It took two days to fully take control of the border. While the initial flank maneuver had worked just as it was supposed to, they had been hard pressed to counter the Aerugean flank that was attempted on the _other_ end of the Amestrian line much harder than anticipated. Sara and Banes' battalions had held their position as ordered and, with the use of defensive alchemy, had sustained minimal losses and only minor injuries. The rest of the first day they saw no action. While that was technically a blessing, she knew it grated on the nerves of the men who were battle-ready. It grated on hers as well, but she resigned herself to a long wait and schooled herself to calm patience.

Darkness fell, and they camped out where they were, glad for the warmth of the climate and without the need for stealth, campfires were allowed for light. In the distance, Sara could see the fires on the other side, and the lights of buildings. While most belonged to the customs offices set up along the border, Sara knew some of them were houses that possibly still contained families if they hadn't been willing to leave. They hadn't made any attempt to hide the incoming Amestrian army. This was a different kind of war, and Sara still wasn't sure how she felt about it.

She sat around a campfire with Lt. Col. Banes, his second in command, and Major Tybalt that night conferring until fairly late in the evening. Without Franklin's battalion to finish their original plan, they needed to consider strategy. Maes Mustang joined them about the time a Sergeant brought dinner over for them. Sara was glad for his input as well. Her friend had been raised on strategy and old combat stories, and overheard at home more than many men learned in training. Finally they had a strategy the three of them agreed was probably their best alternative.

"I'll radio in to Kane and see what he thinks," Sara nodded as she finally picked up the bowl of hot stew that was now lukewarm, but still filling. Maes had polished off three while they were talking, and Sara knew she would go through a couple more before she had replenished the energy she had burned today doing transmutations. "But I doubt he and Strong Arm have come up with anything different."

"It's a pretty bold use of alchemy," Banes commented, looking at the two alchemists. "Will General Armstrong approve? It's hardly defensive."

"It's also meant to push for surrender before we have to risk more casualties on both sides," Maes pointed out around a spoonful. "The Flame Alchemist and True Soul Alchemist did something similar against an enemy force and it stopped them pretty much cold. It wasn't this many people, but the principle is sound."

"Shock factor should be something," Tybalt smirked, looking a little wide-eyed at the idea.

"That's the idea," Sara said. She just hoped they could pull it off.

**October 13****th****, 1951**

When the order came to close with the enemy, it was late the next day. Sara had gotten approval from up the chain of command without any trouble and a comment from Kane that they were gutsy for trying something that only Roy Mustang and Alphonse Elric had pulled off together in the past. Two alchemists combining transmutation was a tricky prospect, but he also agreed that Sara and Maes had the ability to pull it off if any pair did.

"You're sure that our men won't get caught up in this?" Banes asked Sara one last time as they prepared for the push.

"As long as they follow orders," Sara replied without hesitation. The men had been warned that they needed to stick to the battle plan exactly because there would be some highly dangerous alchemy involved in today's tactics. "They should be safe, and this should be easy."

"I'll just have to take your word for that, won't I?" Banes sighed.

Sara nodded. "It's a little late to go changing the plan now."

The order came, and the two Lieutenant Colonels sent their men forward. As they did, Sara and Maes shared a look then began the transmutation. Sara whipped up the wind and Maes snapped his fingers. In truth, this was more complicated than the giant pillar of fire that Roy and Al had whipped up in Xing – both of them had remembered the story quite well. Sara and Maes were generating several of the things, much smaller. The line of small flaming whirlwinds marched in front of the Amestrian line as it charged, a few of them completing the wrap-around at the flank that no longer had a Battalion to cover it.

The Aerugeans reacted just as Sara hoped they would. There were a couple of minutes of chaos as they started firing back at the line advancing through the trees, but it was clear that the whirlwinds had the desired effect. There was shouting, and then the line began to retreat in on itself. Someone dragged an actual hose out of a building and turned it on one of the whirlwinds, but apparently Maes was prepared for that eventuality, because the fire on it flared up and all that Sara saw was a wisp of steam, too small and far away for her to even hear the hiss.

Things wrapped up surprisingly fast after that. Within a half an hour, the call was coming through that up toward the center of the line, the Aerugean Colonel in charge of the soldiers in front of them had surrendered after several of his men had been foolish enough to get themselves killed or wounded by the tornados by _attacking them._

"We've got them," Tybalt informed Sara and Maes. "General Kane says to hold the whirlwinds in place then release them in ten minutes. General Armstrong is handling the surrender personally."

"Sure, no sweat," Maes quipped, and Sara almost laughed. Maes' forehead was dripping from the heat and the exertion of prolonged alchemical transmutation. She was feeling it too. Thank goodness this meant that the border was theirs. She was going to be worthless for the rest of the day after this _little trick_.

Ten minutes seemed to last an eternity. As soon as the time hit, without receiving any orders to the contrary, Sara and Maes released the energy at once, and the whirlwinds faded into obscurity. Sara slumped against a tree while Maes dropped right down on the ground, lying back and groaning.

"Nice work, Firebrand," Sara smirked at him, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and mopping her face with it.

"Next time you have a brilliant idea, Twilight," Maes panted, "remind me not to volunteer."

Major Tybalt returned about then with two canteens over his shoulder. "That was really something," he complimented, actually smiling as he held out the canteens. "General Kane reports the border is secure and the men who surrendered are in custody. They're getting as much information out of them as they can about other troop movements in the area and what we should expect as we move south."

"Excellent," Sara took the canteen and gave Tybalt a nod of thanks before draining it in several long gulps. Damn the heat! She knew that wasn't the real reason she was this thirsty, but it certainly didn't _help. _"Tell the men they have permission to return to camp and I expect them clean and fed within two hours."

"And yourself?" Tybalt asked, with that same smile. Sara was sure he knew how tired they were. As if having Major Mustang collapsed on the ground wasn't a sign of how hard they had just worked.

"As soon as I've met with Kane and given him a full report, I'll be in my tent and if anyone disturbs me before I've had a shower, a meal, and some sleep, threaten to have them court-martialed, shot, or left standing at the border post naked at your discretion." She wasn't kidding either.

"Yes ma'am," Tybalt nodded and headed off again.

"Cruel," Maes chuckled from the ground. "I like it. Maybe you really are cut out for command." He sat up, resting against his elbows before actually hauling himself into a sitting position.

Sara arched one eyebrow as she looked down at her friend. "Maybe?"

"One engagement is hardly enough evidence to put together a convincing case," Maes replied with a cheeky grin before up-ending his canteen again and draining the last of it. "Now I know I'm tired," he commented after a moment.

"How's that?" Sara asked as she made herself stand straight again, stuffed her handkerchief back in her pocket, and got ready to report in.

Maes laughed. "Right now, water tastes sweeter than wine."

Sara chuckled as she turned to walk off. "You're delusional, Mustang. Water _always_ tastes sweeter than wine."

**October 17****th****, 1951**

Darkness, Edward and Alphonse learned quickly, fell earlier in the jungles of Aerugo and even earlier in the mountainous region through which they traveled. Even before it was truly night they traveled through a pro-longed twilight. At least it felt that way.

The first week had been an educational experience for everyone, though Ed was glad that the estimated pace was one they seemed to be keeping. The pack animals were essential. The trail they followed was no real trail, but cutting through mostly uninhabited land, then following a small creek that wound its way down towards the Ama River, which they eventually needed to hit. The Elric brothers traveled at the head of the line. While strategically that might not have been the smartest place to put two of the highest ranking officers in the group – Ed was definitely the highest – no one argued about having it any other way. Ed refused to lead from the back, especially when the most dangerous thing they ever saw was the traces of signs of large cats on the deer-trails they occasionally crossed. With that many men, even a large hunting cat wouldn't mess with their pack animals, which were guarded at night and kept within the camp.

Other than making sure they were on course and didn't lose anybody, there was really very little to do. The men maintained their own equipment, and their direct superiors were in charge of them. Ed, Al, and Hal Brewster were leading an entire Division through the jungle, but it seemed at times that they had the least to do other than collect the reports that came up to them, compile them, and write up daily reports of their own. They _would_ need to report in to Central at the end of each week as planned. That was the only way they would know what was going on with the rest of the army.

It's kind of like camping," Alphonse chuckled during one break on the second day.

"Yeah, with ten thousand of your closest friends and a herd of smelly, stubborn beasts," Ed quipped, but he shrugged and smiled back. "It's better than getting shot at though."

"How optimistic of you," Al laughed.

The land through which they traveled was humid, warm, sticky, and yet altogether beautiful. Even this time of year everything was lush and green, with seasonal flowers blooming on vines that draped in the trees above their heads. The ground was surprisingly free of large underbrush thanks to the canopy style of the trees overhead, save for the places where occasional trees had come down, and there smaller plants ran rampant. It made setting up camp easier since they did have tents and other amenities. There was even room for the full-sized medical and mess tents under the trees.

The end of the first week saw them right on schedule Ed noted as he ticked it off on the map he had unrolled on the table in the command tent after setting up camp for the evening. At least, everyone called it that. It looked like all the other tents, but it had the biggest folding table they had been able to find and load on a llama, and a few portable chairs as well. It was just big enough to squeeze in every General, Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel in the Division, assuming that most of them stood.

"Another week to the river?" Brewster asked, looking over Ed's shoulder.

"Looks like it," Al agreed from the other side of the table. "This is going surprisingly well."

"Don't say that too loud," Ed chuckled. "You'll jinx us."

"Says the man who makes his own luck," Al just shook his head.

"So far the most domestic thing we've seen was a small herd of the local cows from a distance," Brewster pointed out. "It's going to take me a while to get used to the idea of walking an army in right underneath the enemy's nose on their own land and not being noticed."

Ed nodded, took one last look at the map, and folded it up for the night. "Makes me glad we don't have this kind of terrain back home. Give me good open plains and regular forest any day." He turned to Al. "Let's go have a chat with Brahm and call it a day."

The communications officer's tent was set up not far away, in a spot more chosen to get a decent signal out of the jungle rather than for any convenience. They were to report in at a specifically scheduled time so that their relay point just outside the border could bounce their signal straight to Central, and they could get responses as quickly as possible. Keeping communication short kept suspicions down and would hopefully keep their actions secret for a while longer.

It didn't take long to make the brief report. There was very little going on after all, and everything was going almost too well. The voice on the other end of the line was that of General Brahm this evening. Not that Ed was surprised to find the old man insisting on being there, though Breda was there as well as they were brought up to speed and he questioned the three of them on various points.

"That's the whole situation," Ed wrapped it up after a couple of minutes. "Are there any further orders or updates?"

After the expected time delay, the reply came. "We control the border as of five days ago. Things are moving ahead as planned, so stick to the strategy we worked out for as long as you can or until you hear differently."

"Will do, Sir," Ed replied, glad to hear it. He had been a little worried about how long it might take them to actually control the border. So far things sounded like they were going better than could usually be hoped. "How did the alchemists fare?" That was what he really cared about when it came to the other troops, beyond the fact that the plan was working of course.

"They put in a spectacular performance," Breda chuckled. "Actually you should both hear this. Remember that little trick Flame and True Soul pulled in Xing? Well it seems Twilight and Firebrand have a rather effective variant of their own involving multiples of things that makes a great deterrent. We were able to force the surrender with minimal losses on the second day."

Ed felt pride swell within him, and relief knowing that Sara was obviously safe despite the active combat situation on the other front. "Sounds like this may not be much of a fight," he grinned.

"If only," Breda sighed on the other end. "Well, time to sign off. Any other messages?"

"Tell Elicia I love her," Al leaned over towards the radio, cutting in at the last minute, grinning as Ed bopped him over the head with a fist.

"Will do," was the last thing they heard before the communication ended.

"You dork," Ed smirked at Al, though he couldn't help chuckling. "This is business."

Al rubbed the top of his head as he stood straight again. "When we won't have the chance to write letters home, so is that," he replied with dignity.

"Now you make me wish I'd thought of it first," Brewster laughed as he stood up and headed for the door. "My wife would love something like that. She's always been the sentimental type. Well," he stretched his arms and headed out. "Dinner time! See you _too _early tomorrow."

"You don't know early," Ed laughed, teasing as he stood up and followed Al and Brewster out of the tent. They were up at daybreak every morning to take down camp and get moving, but it wasn't that much earlier than he was used to getting up and working out at home. "By the time this is over you won't be nearly so soft."

"No thanks," Brewster chuckled. "After this is over I think I'll go home and spend a little time being as lazy as possible. I have the feeling I'm going to need it keeping up with the two of you."

"It's all Ed's fault," Al said as they walked towards the Mess tent. "He keeps setting these standards that everyone else has got to meet or we look bad being beat out by the little guy."

Ed felt the proverbial steam in his ears. Little! He knew Al was trying to provoke him, just for the heck of it, and he quashed his temper. "I've got to keep you on your toes somehow," he replied with a cocky smirk instead. "We'd have a sad, slovenly bunch sitting around Central HQ otherwise and how would that look?"

"Comfortable," Brewster inserted his own comment with a laugh.

"Much less stressed," Al added.

As the two of them began chatting, Ed fell in slightly behind them. He didn't mind the ribbing. Actually, it was complimentary in a way, and he rather enjoyed it. Very few of the other officers under their command at this point saw him as anything other than _the legend_; their commanding officer to be respected, possibly revered, at least _tolerated,_ and followed. For the most part, only the alchemists saw him as anything more, and a large number of them still thought of him as the Fullmetal Alchemist, hero of the people, and their teacher they had never beaten in practice. The older ones from his earlier classes though, like Matthias, were not so formal, and that was good. Ed found it a little lonely at the top of the pecking order sometimes.

The thing that nagged at him though as he followed Al and Brewster into the Mess, was the comments made earlier. Al's little _love note_ home, and Brewster's comment. Ed had scoffed, but he couldn't help but think that Winry would probably have enjoyed it too, no matter how stupid Ed would have felt sending something like that over open airwaves. It wasn't like all of Amestris didn't know he loved his wife, so why did it bug him?

Ed shook his head slightly even though he knew the movement would not really clear it. He had enough to worry about right now. Winry was thankfully safe at home where he didn't have to worry about her being in danger. It was difficult enough knowing that Sara was going to be where the fighting was most likely to come for a while yet.

His stomach growled then, reminding Ed that it had been hours of hard marching since lunch, and he caught up with Al in a few strides. That was a much more pressing issue at the moment that he could actually do something about, and for now that was good enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**October 21****st****, 1951**

The lines of their Battalions were strung out behind and in front of Sara and her fellow alchemists as they marched. Sara walked with Maes and Cal today at the front of her own units. They had been positioned near the front of the marching order since that was the most likely direction in which they might to find obstruction to their continued march into Aerugo. They weren't even the front line of the Division marching toward Havah – one of the two sent down with Armstrong – but they were close enough to be called to use if necessary.

Nine days since they had taken the border, and they were well into Aerugo. They had passed through a handful of small towns along the way and been given surprisingly little trouble. It seemed, as they had hoped, that most of the civilians simply did not want to get in the way of bigger goings on in the government. When the Amestrians were polite, caused no trouble, and left quietly, the locals were simply grateful. They had only met one other pocket of resistance so far, when one of the local militia groups took it upon themselves to try and make a stand against the much larger force.

Sara's only real complaint was the inability of_ present company _to be civil for more than five minutes at a stretch outside of the battlefield, and given they hadn't seen more than a brief skirmish since crossing the border that meant a lot of down time when Cal and Maes were sniping at each other instead. "If I have to separate the two of you there's going to be consequences," Sara grumbled as they trudged their way down the relatively quiet road.

"You sound like my mother," Cal smirked at her.

"I _pity_ your mother," Sara retorted.

Maes chuckled. "Must have been a real pain bringing him up."

Sara glared at him in turn. "You're no better, the things you've put your mother through, so don't start."

Maes looked contrite. "Low blow, Twilight. Besides, I'm right and you know it!"

The argument, as Sara understood it, involved the best formula for transmuting and making a metal that was hardened, but flexible enough not to crack or snap no matter what shape it was made into for combat purposes. As if that weren't complex enough, it should be resistant to heat and not rust when wet; more so than the existing options. Given that neither of their specialties were metals, Sara found the debate academic at best, and lacking in solid backing at worst. It wasn't that their information was faulty; it was just that they did not grasp the finer points of the material in question. "With your theory the metal would come out too hard," Sara sighed. "And with Cal's it would be too malleable and bend too easily."

"How do you know that?" Cal asked what had to be one of the most obvious questions Sara had heard in the past hour.

"Because my mother designs functional metal _limbs_ for a living and my father's alias is Full_metal_ for more reasons than just the irony," she replied shortly. "Just because my area of expertise isn't heavier elements like metals doesn't mean I don't understand how it works, and I _do_ work with them." Being trained by her father, she hadn't really had a choice in whether or not she learned some of that alchemy. Besides, its functional and practical application was often much more important than any other use of alchemy in their line of work.

"Okay, so that was a stupid question," Cal admitted with some modicum of grace. "Anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked with a cheeky grin. "Dinner? Dancing? A little wine?"

"So help me, if that's a come on Whitewater you'll be looking at your intestines from the inside out." Normally, Sara could tolerate Cal. In Central, he had mostly kept a respectful distance, or at least a respectful _manner_ around her ever since she made it very clear how she felt about his attitude and his actions a couple of years back. They were colleagues and generally friendly, but she had made it plain even before she and Franz got together that she had no intention of ever getting physically or emotionally involved with the Whitewater Alchemist ever again.

"Because your desk jockey boyfriend will beat me up?" Apparently Cal felt like pushing his luck today, because even Maes winced, bracing for a firestorm that never materialized.

Sara refused to lose her temper completely and do anything in front of her troops that would jeopardize her standing as a level-headed and trustworthy officer in their eyes. After her and Maes' alchemy displays in the first combat situation and how few people they had lost, they all looked to her with respect and a confidence that surprised Sara and, she had to admit, she found mildly intimidating. The _Belle of the East_ still had a reputation, and it was growing. "Don't make me report you for insubordination," she replied with a snort. "And in a fight without alchemy, yes, I'd put Franz up against you in a heartbeat." That _desk jockey boyfriend _had seen combat. He kept in shape too, like any good soldier; he just had talents that placed him in a completely different set of duties. Sara wanted to rant but she didn't. She certainly had_ that _much self-control.

"Leave off, Whitewater," Maes scowled from Sara's other side. "Heimler's a good guy."

"Oh look, Lieutenant Colonel Elric's puppy project is growling at me," Cal quipped sardonically. "For a single guy you've got quite a leash there, Mustang."

"That's enough!" Sara stopped dead so fast that both men took three steps before they managed to stop and look back at her. She reached out and hauled Cal around by the collar, catching him off-guard enough that she managed to drag him out of the line of march. "I don't know what your problem is, _Major_, but if you don't start at least pretending to get along with Mustang and start showing some of the respect you're supposed to towards your superiors I _will_ have a word with Franklin about you and we'll see what kind of duties you get assigned for the rest of this mission. So stop being an ass when I know you're _capable_ of being a decent guy."

The last line clearly was not what Cal had expected her to say, nor was it entirely what Sara _wanted_ to say, but it was true. Except when it came to his dislike of Maes – Sara really suspected it was because they were rivals for the attention of women more than anything else at this point – Cal was pretty level headed and considerate. "Yes ma'am, Twilight," Cal sighed. "Umm…could you please let go of my neck now?"

Sara took her hands off his uniform collar. "Just so we understand each other," she replied with a nod. Then she turned at gave Maes a warning glance. "Do we need to talk to?"

Maes shook his head. "No. I think I get the message. I'm sorry. Though I will say in both of our defenses, this heat is really a bear."

The heat was making everyone a little irritable. Sara sighed. "I guess I can do something about that." She bent down and sketched a quick circle in the dirt – it was too hot for gloves unless she needed them for combat – and tapped her hands to it. Within moments, the air picked up, kicking a slightly cooler breeze across them and all the soldiers walking around them. "There," she said standing and dusting off her hands. "That should last for a couple of hours. Let's keep moving, gentlemen. We have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall."

There was a sense of relief that spread among the men as Sara and the others fell back into line, though Sara knew it had nothing to do with her calling out Cal – which most of them had fixedly pretended to ignore – but more with her little use of alchemy to make the heat and humidity a little more bearable. A couple of them cheered and one gave her a thumbs up; clear signs that they knew who had shifted something with alchemy long enough to bring up the breeze as a form of relief. Sara could have done any number of things if she had wanted to try and _win over _the soldiers under her command, but really it was those little things and being a good and trustworthy officer that had gotten her farthest so far. Was it so strange to have an officer who cared, or was it just the unique fact that her battalion's commanding officer could actually _do_ something about their discomforts and complaints in more effective ways? Really, Sara had to admit, it was probably a little bit of both.

* * *

That afternoon they reached the first of the major towns in their path; Marnot. This meant two facts of importance. The first was that the town had a real military garrison stationed in it; the second being that it was one of the critical points along the line of travel where they would be leaving soldiers, because this town had a train station. Armstrong needed to leave a force here to keep the roads and tracks open back up to the border. They would be leaving a decent number of men here, though none of the battalions the three alchemists were a part of would be among them. They were for Havah.

The line stopped a little bit out of town. At this point, there was no way the town didn't know they were coming. It wasn't like the Amestrians had been able to do much from stopping communications down to the next towns by phone and by radio. They could only hope that the lack of unnecessary violence would help make the way a little more peaceful. So far, so good. Sara wondered how long it would last.

Apparently, for the moment, luck was with them. Word came down the line requesting Sara's presence at the front, where Kane and Armstrong were waiting for her. Sara walked briskly – running would be entirely inappropriate – up to where they stood and saluted sharply. "What can I do for you, Sirs?"

"It seems we have a welcoming committee," Kane commented with a small smirk and motioned towards the low wall surrounding the town. Standing at the top of the small rise ahead of them were several men in what amounted to local business attire; suits to be sure, but in the Aerugean style. There were a small number of men in Aerugean military uniforms with them, but hardly more than a protective force. It was definitely not the entire military unit stationed in Marnot. "Care to join us in seeing how peacefully we can make this little occupation happen? We thought you might be a good third party."

Sara hadn't been expecting that. "What do you want me to do?"

"Watch," General Armstrong replied. "Observe and listen. While we negotiate, see what you can learn from the people we're dealing with."

"And watch our backs," Kane added with a grin. "They don't look like they want this to get violent, but even a couple of experienced alchemists can be killed with a bullet if they let their guard down."

Great; No pressure there. "I can handle that," Sara nodded. Why her? Well, she could think of several reasons if she put her mind to it, but none of which singled her out particularly over some of the other officers with them aside from her also being an alchemist.

"If you couldn't you wouldn't be here," Kane smirked. "You're good at reading people's intentions, Twilight. I'll want your observations."

"Yes, Sir," Sara nodded then took a moment to pull on her gloves. If things did get dicey she didn't want to waste precious seconds drawing a transmutation circle.

The meeting was surprisingly brief. The three Amestrian officers approached with only a handful of soldiers as protection; less than the town leadership had certainly.

"Greetings," a middle aged, rather heavy-set man nodded as they approached. The mayor, Sara guessed. He spoke in heavily accented Amestrian. "Welcome to Marnot." From his tone, Sara guessed quickly that the welcome was more of an irony. It wasn't as if the man had any choice in their being there. "I am the mayor of this city. Who are you and what is your business here?"

Armstrong stepped out of the group and offered a hand to the man. "I am General Alex Louis Armstrong and I am in charge of this operation. We are here merely to reopen the railway and roads between the border and Havah to those Amestrians and other non-Aerugeans who wish to leave the country. Negotiations with your government have failed in this regard, and so more direct actions became unfortunately necessary. I assure you, if we can cooperate in this matter there will be no trouble."

Not that anyone Sara had ever met was good at cutting off Armstrong when he got going, even if they tried, but Sara could tell the Mayor was taken aback by the Strong Arm Alchemist's upfront nature and sincerity.

The Mayor blinked several times then took Armstrong's hand and shook it. "I am Sarro Targuila. While I dislike that you have appeared on my doorstep armed, I cannot deny that you also have a superior force to the one we have stationed here. I will discuss the matter with you further, but in private please."

"May I include some of my officers in the discussions?" Armstrong asked with an agreeable nod.

"Who did you wish to bring?" Targuila looked at the rest of them.

"General Marcus Kane," Armstrong gestured to Kane. Major General Rehnquist had very purposefully been left with the rest of the men. If something did happen, someone in authority needed to be able to command the troops. "And Lieutenant Colonel Sara Elric."

Sara hadn't expected that, but she did not let her surprise show as Targuila looked over them both. At the sound of her name his eyes lit briefly, and Sara knew that the mayor had recognized her last name. Sure, there were likely other Elrics in the world somewhere, but none in the military that Sara had met besides herself, and the _famous brothers. _

"Interesting," Targuila commented. "Very well. Please come with me." He turned then and walked off, his armed escort and the other members of the town governing body following, but keeping a wary eye on the Amestrians.

Sara and Kane fell in behind Armstrong as they walked into town, now without their own armed escort. That did not worry Sara much however. Each of the alchemists still wore their sidearm, just in case. They were led through town to what appeared to be the town hall. It was one of the larger buildings and of rather striking architecture. Inside, they were taken to what turned out to be a pretty typical conference room and offered seats around the table. What did surprise Sara was the fact that only the Mayor himself, and two armed guards, entered with them. "We have been discussing your arrival for days," Targuila smirked at their questioning glances. "Any decisions left to be made are mine.

"If I may ask," Armstrong commented as Targuila pulled out four glasses and started pouring something into them, "Which side of the current political situation do you stand with?"

"My own," Targuila commented without hesitation as he slid the glasses across the table and then sat down. "Some of our finest," he commented as he picked up his own glass. "Please enjoy."

Sara knew they did not dare refuse the man's hospitality. Armstrong and Kane didn't hesitate to pick up the glasses. "Thank you, very much," Armstrong replied, polite as always.

Sara swallowed and did the same, praying Targuila was not savvy enough to pick up a small use of alchemy as she employed a trick her father had taught her while the man was looking in Armstrong's direction. Neutralizing the alcohol took only seconds fortunately. The last thing she needed to do was endanger negotiations because she couldn't hold her liquor!

Kane gave her a knowing look as he sipped from his own glass. Neither he nor Armstrong employed the same technique as far as she could tell. "Excellent," he agreed.

Sara sipped hers and could tell at once that the transmutation had worked. "Very good," she agreed. It actually was very good rum.

"Now," Targuila said after drinking himself, "I am in an interesting situation it seems. As things stand, I am well trusted by the new regime, and I find myself playing host to three of the most important people likely sent on your little expedition. You claim humanitarian work, but you've brought an awfully large number of troops for such an endeavor."

"One division," Kane replied. "We have another holding the border open it's true. If your government down in Bueáire changes their mind, then things do not need to come to more violence."

"Then I fear this will be a bloody mess before it's over," Targuila replied candidly. "The new cabinet is made up of men who don't particularly care about bloodshed if it meets their needs. They are men of wealth and vision. That does not make them men of honor."

"You don't speak well of men you claim trust you," Kane pointed out boldly.

"I said they trust _me_," Targuila nodded. "I did not say I trust _them_. Still, you see my predicament. Giving in to your occupation of my city and control of the train station without a fight would ruin any chance of keeping my position here, and keeping Aerugean troops out of here as well. I want peace for my town even if there is none elsewhere. That is my priority."

Sara could understand why he felt that way, even if she personally thought that the overall situation was more critical than just one town. Still, the man was showing loyalty to the people he knew and the ones he could help in his own sphere of influence.

"So you want to hear our offer," Armstrong said.

"What have you got?" Targuila looked at the hulking man.

"What we want," Armstrong explained, "Is control of the road and the railways so that we can bring trains down to Havah and back out again removing those stranded within the country."

"What about Aerugeans?" Targuila asked; his tone very neutral. It was the lack of interest one way or the other that actually caught Sara's attention.

"Our orders are not to allow expatriation at this time," Armstrong replied patiently, sounding mildly regretful. "It was felt that this would aggravate and possibly prolong the conflict."

Targuila sipped his rum thoughtfully. "The fact that reports from the other towns you have passed through confirms that your mission is not conquest. Aside from the battle at the border, there has been much less violence than I honestly expected."

"From us?" Kane asked.

"From the locals," Targuila replied. "The country is torn over this turn of events, and how quickly all of this has happened. Many people are still too stunned to react or think clearly. Most will follow whatever government is in place out of fear and the hope that perhaps there will actually be the promised improvements. You are obviously a foreign army on Aerugean soil. I had expected more skirmishes. Not that there is anything here that could really pose a threat to you…yet."

"You mean that the real army is on its way," Armstrong queried.

"That's the news on the radio," Targuila nodded. "They are marching north to _'expel the wrongful Amestrian invasion.'_"

Kane drank from his glass. "Damn I hate politics."

Targuila actually laughed. "We are merely the pawns. Or so those moving the pieces often think."

"What kind of resistance will you put up if we take control of the station and the roads, Mayor Targuila?" Armstrong asked then, bringing things back to business.

Targuila sobered. "As I said before, there is little I could do. In the name of not wasting lives, I can certainly avoid getting my men slaughtered. They are outnumbered. Saying I was bullied into it would mean very little honestly. Bribed however," he smirked slightly, "They would believe and, though this may surprise you, find the more acceptable option."

"And just what would we need to bribe you with," Kane frowned. Sara was wondering the same thing.

"Well promising to keep camped outside of the town itself and not burn the place would be a start," Targuila surprised them all. He was surprisingly agreeable about all this.

Kane seemed to feel the same. "That's all?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh hardly," Targuila smiled. "I'm an opportunist. I expect the rails fully open for our usual import and export trade to continue unhindered, and I'm sure your government has the ability to offer me a handsome sum of money to pretend that I put up a fight and we lost and to provide information as to our army's current movements. Which you could find out for yourself," he admitted, "Though not as quickly. You need this position, and I need a guarantee of peace and quiet. Agree to keep the fighting out of my town, and defend it if necessary and I won't protest."

"We will need to discuss this with Central," Armstrong replied, though Sara could tell he was considering it. Well, there were no orders against it and it was cheaper than the loss of lives and ammunition. "But it seems a reasonable agreement."

"And what about you, Lieutenant Colonel Elric?" Sara was startled when Targuila addressed her directly. For most of the conversation he seemed to have been ignoring her. "What is your opinion in all this?"

Sara considered her words carefully. Now was not the time to mess up what seemed like a relatively painless agreement. "I think it's the best option," she replied honestly. "Both of our objectives are met without loss of life, and without losing face. Sounds like as much of a win-win situation as you can get in a situation like this."

"Are all of your lower officers so astute," Targuila looked at Kane and Armstrong, "Or merely your alchemists?"

It was Kane who answered. "Both," he replied with a grin. "You have a good eye."

"You all come nicely marked with silver watch-chains," Targuila smirked, sipping from his glass again and seeming to relax more. "All three of your names, and reputations, are well known to me. In truth I am flattered you think me worth such a level of attention." He looked back at Sara. "It is truly commendable to find that Amestris' military truly has become the honor-led force it claims to be. So few things these days are."

"Like your new government," Sara couldn't resist commenting.

"Precisely that, Lieutenant Colonel Elric," Targuila smiled, though he managed to make her official title sound almost as if he simply said _Miss._ Sara was aware there were still very few women in the Aerugean military. She decided it definitely was not worth taking offense when the man actually seemed impressed. "One thing I can say for my country, the politics are never dull."

_Never dull indeed_, Sara could not help thinking of the irony in that statement later when the meeting had broken up and they were on their way back to the army to tell them where to bivouac for the night. They would work out the specifics for a more permanent camp in the morning. Sara just hoped that more of their major engagements would be negotiations instead of battles. If so, than the war would be over faster, everyone would be safer, and they could all go home. That was a big _if_ though. Still, it couldn't hurt to be _realistically_ optimistic.

**October 27****th****, 1951 **

The Eastern force hit the Ama River three days ahead of schedule, at the end of a very long day of hiking that was notable for the steep climb lasting over a mile on the last ridge. Finally they came to the top and the river came into view below them.

Still at the front, the Elrics topped the ridge first and paused, panting, to look at the landscape stretched out below as the river – still fairly small and fast this far to the north-east – wended its way through the jungle, cutting a small trench in the tree line and sparkling in the sun.

Al leaned against a boulder for a minute to catch his breath. "Hey, Ed," he smirked. "Remember that five pounds I couldn't get rid of back home?"

Ed turned and frowned at him, clearly puzzled by the non-sequitur. "Yeah?"

"I think I dropped them somewhere back on the trail, along with a few more."

"Well tough luck," Ed smirked with a short laugh, catching on. "We're not going back for them."

"Oh I wasn't suggesting it," Al grinned. "We'd fall behind schedule."

"I'm sure Elicia and Alyse can help you find good replacements when we get home," Ed shook his head and looked back down the hill. "Gracia would be happy to help too probably if you're heartbroken about it."

"Right now I'm hungry enough to eat my boots," Al stood up straight again and shrugged his pack into place.

"Eat the llama," Ed suggested as he waved one of the Lieutenants forward. "Tell the units we'll be pitching camp when we hit the river," he said. That meant they were stopping a couple of hours early today, but Al seriously doubted anyone would mind after they cleared the top of that hill.

"Yes, sir," The Lieutenant saluted, then hesitated a moment. "Permission to speak, Sir?"

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Ed looked at him.

"Does that mean I have to go back down that hill and up again, Sir?" The poor young man looked rather pathetic and bedraggled already.

"It means you should sit here and inform them of this as they come over the ridge," Ed clarified with a grin. "I'm afraid you'll have to rest for a couple of hours to make sure you get everyone. Can you handle that Lieutenant?"

Al managed to stifle a chuckle as the Lieutenant's face broke out in a relieved grin. "Yes, General Elric!"

Despite how close it appeared, it took another hour to get all the way down the other side of the ridge to the river itself. Dripping with sweat and swatting at insects, Al was relieved when they finally hit a good area for camping and dropped their bags right about where the center of camp would be along the river.

The sight of the fresh cold water of the Ama seemed to encourage industry, and the camp for the entire Division was set up in record time for the trip so far. In fact, the smells of food were already rising from the Mess tent as Al caught up with Ed after his inspection of his third of the camp. Ed and Brewster had taken a third each as well to cut down on time. Fortunately issues had been minimal and easy to deal with.

"Where are you going?" Al asked Ed, who was just coming back out of the tent the two brothers shared. They rated a single tent for each of them, of course, but it seemed stupid to haul two of the large officer's tents around when they were perfectly capable of sharing space. One tent was easily big enough for two cots, two chairs, and a single table.

"The river," Ed grinned cheekily at him. "I haven't had a good bath in weeks!"

"Yeah I know," Al smirked. "I can smell you at night."

"You're no flower either," Ed snorted.

Actually, with the stream they had been following up until yesterday, everyone had been bathing regularly. Still, Al knew what Ed meant. A good cold swim would be refreshing with the heat they had endured and today's especially grueling hike. Al followed Ed down towards the river, planning to keep watch first and take his turn afterwords.

A lot of soldiers seemed to have already had the same idea. All along the shore-line of the camp there were people. Anyone not on duty was taking advantage of that fact and cooling off at the water's edge.

Ed didn't seem to think that was enough. He stripped down to his shorts and with a loud whoop he jumped down into the river and splashed his way out several yards. Here, the water was only a few feet deep, lined in rock, and almost crystal clear. It was really stunning. Apparently, from the shout that came from Ed a few seconds later, it was also pretty chilly, at least compared to the air around them.

Al dropped down on a flat rock and kept an eye on the opposite shore. They hadn't had more than minimal concern with the big cats or other predators in the jungles, thanks to the sheer number of men they had and how they pitched camp, but that didn't mean they were necessarily alone out here. If they could hide an army, so could someone else.

"He ought to stop that," Brewster smirked as he dropped down on a rock beside Al. "He's making the men feel inferior."

Al chuckled. "Oh it can't be that bad." He watched his brother stand up from the water and flip his head back to get the hair out of his face. Okay, so Ed was all lean muscle. His brother had always been built like that; wire framed but solid on top of it. "The men aren't _that _out of shape." Especially not after the last two weeks of marching.

"It's not that," Brewster shook his head. "Well, not entirely," he added with a chuckle. "It's what else they can see."

Al looked at Ed again and understood what Brewster meant. Despite the years, the faint lines of scars were visible if you weren't used to them. His back still held a few stripes clearly put there by a whip, and there were slightly discolored areas in spots from hot pokers and other implements. Al had gotten used to them, and the new skin that had grown and tanned over the years had mostly taken care of that. Some things though would never fade.

Al knew Ed didn't care though, and so Al had never really thought to consider how strongly they might affect people who hadn't been through anything like that. It didn't make Ed seem human or imperfect; quite the opposite effect perhaps; evidence of how much Ed had overcome in his life and he was still here, in the jungle, leading this mission and pausing to enjoy the refreshing waters of the river as if he was out on a camping trip back home.

"Are there really flesh-eating fish in the Ama?" Brewster asked after a moment.

"That's only further downstream," Al replied casually.

"Ah. Someone should warn the men about that later."

"They have been warned, just not about the fact that it's down river," Al chuckled.

A hint of understanding came to Brewster's eyes. "Well no wonder they think Edward's either incredibly brave or completely nuts."

"The truth is he's both," Al chuckled. "But that really does look refreshing. I'm just waiting my turn."

"Keeping watch?" Brewster asked, though it didn't look like they needed it with so many of the men around, Al noted.

Al shook his head. "Partially. Really I'm avoiding what would almost certainly turn into an exhausting water fight!" Fun as that might be, Al was tired, and it also would look completely unprofessional in front of the men! _Some_ kind of decorum had to be maintained. This was supposed to be a military operation after all.

* * *

Eventually, Al got his turn in the cool waters of the river as well, and it felt good to really get clean as well as refreshed. After a hearty dinner, the entire camp settled down to the usual quiet of people collected around campfires, swapping stories and playing cards. A few were smoking, even fewer were actually drinking. Before they had left Central, Ed had made it clear that anyone with any serious craving they _couldn't live without_ had better be prepared to get over it before they left, or be in for a long haul. If they couldn't carry it with them, then they would just have to suffer. The military wasn't supplying any non-essentials and, as Ed had made it plain, the middle of a mission in enemy territory was not the place to find out someone had a debilitating addiction. So those who had brought anything with them had only what they carried in their own packs, and rationed it carefully.

If nothing else, it made for a very clean, quiet camp most nights. Though it made Al grateful that the only things he really missed at the moment were really _good_ tea, his daughter's cooking, and Elicia to snuggle up with at night! He suspected most of the soldiers were missing that too. _Fraternizing_ with fellow soldiers on the march was not allowed, and he knew a lot of them were antsy about that as well; especially the younger soldiers; the men in particular. Or rather, Al supposed they were just the most vocal about it. The women were too smart, and the older men too experienced, to complain.

Ed and Al invited Brewster, Matthias Wood, and a couple of the other alchemists and officers to join them in a game of cards around the table in the officer's tent. Under the light of the lamps it was pretty cozy company.

Matthias smirked as he offered everyone a bit of the stash of hard candies his wife had slipped into his pack without telling him before he left. "I'd let you read the note she left with it, but she'd kill me," he commented smugly.

"One of_ those_ letters," Colonel Fiennes, one of the other seasoned veterans in the bunch smirked. "I bet that'll keep you warm at night."

"Better company than the mosquitoes," Matthias agreed, chuckling.

"I found a letter tucked up in my socks of all things," Al admitted, grinning as he dealt the first hand. He wasn't about to share what Elicia had written in that one either! It was, by far, the _steamiest _thing he had ever seen in writing addressed to him personally. It smelled like her favorite perfume too, and Al kept it tucked up under his pillow at night and in his pocket during the day. Sentimental perhaps; but it was the best he had for the moment and he appreciated the love in that gesture.

"My wife would have stuffed a whole pie in my sack if she could have found a way to make it last and not make a huge mess," Brewster laughed as he looked at his cards. "It's like she thinks I'll starve on good ol' military campaign slop."

"What did she do instead?" Matthias asked.

The tips of Hal Brewster's ears turned a little pink. "She left something of _hers_ in my bag instead."

That elicited a couple of wolf whistles and a holler from the men around the table. "What was it?" Feinnes asked, grinning broadly.

"Let's just say it's very personal and small enough not to waste space," Brewster commented, leaving the rest to their imaginations. It didn't take much!

"I thought we were playing cards here, gentlemen," Ed commented shortly as he discarded and picked two up from the pile.

"Aww, lighten up, Fullmetal," Matthias grinned. Even off-duty, he never got less formal than their added names. Not here anyway.

"His wife probably gave him a wrench," Fiennes snickered and there was some general chuckling as they settled down to some _serious_ card playing. It would have been just like Winry to do something like that after all; or machine oil for Ed's auto-mail. Something practical, the way she always was.

No one had very much to gamble with, so it wasn't very competitive. That was fine. Al liked it laid back. It also meant the night ended when everyone ran out of whatever they had to put in the pot.

As Al curled up in bed later under the light blanket he slept with to keep the bugs off, despite the heat, he closed his eyes and relaxed. With being ahead of schedule, they had decided to leave a couple of hours later in the morning, giving everyone a good night of rest, and Al was glad for it. "Hey, Ed?" he commented drowsily as he closed his eyes.

"What is it, Alphonse?" Ed mumbled from inside his bedroll. He sounded half asleep already.

"What _did _Winry give you anyway?"

Apparently Ed really was that tired, because the only response Al got was the sound of quiet breathing. When no answer was forthcoming, Al gave up and went to sleep. His curiosity could always be assuaged later. Pleasant dreams of Elicia were certainly more pressing.

**November 5****th****, 1951**

Sara's optimism lasted only half way to the next major town they needed to fortify and hold, when they ran into the Aerugean troops that Targuila had warned them about. It was mid-morning when the battle broke out. The Amestrians fell to ranks quickly as the alchemists created walls to give their soldiers some form of cover to hide behind instead of standing in the middle of the wide open road and the fields that edged them, the trees a good hundred yards distant at that point.

But the enemy had given themselves plenty of time to prepare, and their line spread not only across the road behind barricades, but all the way to the trees, which were too thick here for any kind of reasonable flanking maneuver. That was something at least. As if that wasn't enough; it started to rain. Of course, it had rained plenty of times since they arrived in Aerugo. It was winter and down here that meant rainy season, but they hadn't had to fight in it before.

The fighting lasted until mid-day and then began to push into the afternoon. Rank after rank fired until they were out of ammunition, then reloaded and fired some more. They were stuck in position and engaged with no hope of retreat from their current position without taking losses.

The storm became a hazard. They could barely see the enemy ahead of them, and soon everyone was soaked to the bone by a surprisingly cold downpour. Thunder rolled overhead as loudly as the rounds of gunfire did on the earth. The alchemists struggled to keep their barriers up to protect their men as the mud began to run. It was a problem Sara had heard stories about before – several actually – from her father. She had dealt with mud before herself, though she would really rather forget that incident and what happened after. She did her best to lessen the rain around her men so they could see, and keep the walls from collapsing.

What Sara had done with the mud in the mudslide incident she couldn't do here anyway. There was no way she had the alchemical energy to deal with the mud and pull back the storm enough to get to the light and heat she would need. It was all she could do to get orders passed in the rain and the noise. Hell, seeing past her _hair_ in the rain was getting to be a trick. Her battalion was near the middle of the line, with Franklin's and Bane's both to her right. She couldn't tell for sure who was to her right, but she knew that Kane himself was in that direction.

It was in the midst of a volley that Sara realized she wasn't the only one who remembered her actions from a few years back. Cal had worked that mudslide too and he obviously had an idea, because there was a sudden surge of alchemical energy, and from the edge of their barricade shot out a wide swath of glowing blue energy and the mud beyond them surged and flowed like a living thing, several inches deep and vanishing quickly into the distance though Sara could see the line of energy extending far past her limited usual view in the rain.

Then there was another surge, and more alchemy as the entire thing flash-fired just like a kiln, and went hard. Steam rose off it in the rain, and the rain began to puddle immediately against the now baked and fired clay that _was_ the ground. It extended back apparently all the way to – and around – the enemy.

In the distance, the firing stopped almost at once and was replaced with shouts of confusion and worry. A cease-fire order came from Kane almost immediately. Whatever Cal – and Sara was sure Maes had been the other alchemist – had done worked beautifully. It sounded like the enemy was firmly _stuck_ in place. As soon as they were allowed, Sara had her men withdraw back to a good location with most of the rest of the army to set up camp. Sara would get the details in the debriefing meeting later.

* * *

It was a relief to be tucked up in a tent later, out of the continuing rain. It didn't matter how wet everything was. Sara was grateful that someone had wiped down her table and chair and bed when they set up her tent. The bedding was blessedly dry, and once she had changed into dry clothes and wrapped a blanket around her frame she felt a lot better.

The meeting with Armstrong, Kane, Rehnquist and the rest of the officers had been thankfully brief. It was confirmed that the Firebrand and Whitewater alchemists had come up with that strategy, though Cal had surprised Sara by graciously – or at least with feigned humility – admitting that he had gotten the idea from Sara in the first place. The Aerugean regiments they had captured would be going back up the line and held at Marnot for the time being. The Amestrians would continue on as planned in the morning.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Colonel," A voice called from outside, breaking into Sara's thoughts. "Permission to enter?"

"Come in," Sara gave an affirmative and tried not to sigh out loud. What she really wanted was some quiet. She stood up and left the blanket on the bed.

A private came in carrying a tray. "Major Mustang ordered me to bring this to you," he said setting the tray down and then saluting. "It's dinner, Si— umm, ma'am."

"At ease, Private," Sara smiled slightly. "Thank you. Tell Major Mustang I'd like to speak with him when he has a moment. Find Major Fischer too please."

"Yes ma'am," the private saluted again and headed out.

Sara pulled the cloth cover off the cheap tray that clearly came from the Mess and found a large bowl of hearty stew and a big chunk of warm, crusty bread heavily slathered in butter and a large, thick clay mug of hot tea. Her stomach growled as the scents hit her nose. Her written reports could _definitely_ wait until after dinner.

Sara devoured the meal. Alchemy always left her hungry. She was done and sitting cross-legged on her bed, tucked up under the blanket, working on her reports when Maes and Cal ducked into the tent. "You wanted to see us, Twilight?" Maes asked. They both looked mildly curious and possibly concerned. What did they think she was going to do, yell at them?

Sara smirked. "Who says fire and water don't mix?"

The guys immediately relaxed. "Well you know, any ally in a fire fight," Maes grinned.

"Sit down," she said to them both. "You're making me tired just looking at you standing there."

Maes laughed and dropped down on the end of her cot. "We're the ones pulling off the major moves this time and _you're_ tired?"

Cal was fortunately less presumptuous and took the one chair in the room. Turning it around and leaning on the back. "So was that all you called us in here for?"

"What, a little conversation's beneath you now?" Sara quipped.

"Nah," Maes shook his head, grinning. "You just interrupted dinner."

"Given how much you two monkeys eat," Sara smirked, "I'm sure the Mess will thank me later." She was joking of course. All the alchemists ate more than most of the other soldiers after any combat situation. Amestris had learned to use its alchemists, and they _were_ being used; no more hesitation. She was just as bad. The truth was, she was still hungry too.

"I just told them to send more this way," Cal fished a small bottle out from under his jacket. "This seemed a much more pleasant place to chill out and warm up. Want some? It's whisky." From the knowing smirk on his face, Sara knew Cal already knew her answer.

"I should slug you for even making the suggestion," Sara rolled her eyes. She remembered too well the last time she had willingly had a drink with the man.

"Your loss," Cal opened the bottle and took a swig. "Mustang?"

"Don't mind if I do," Maes replied, taking the bottle and drinking.

"You two are acting awfully chummy this evening," Sara eyed them suspiciously. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," Maes assured her. "We'll be back to hating each other by morning, never fear."

"Wouldn't do to upset the status quo," Cal agreed with a cheeky grin.

"And who said the two of you could get drunk in my tent?" Sara frowned. She had invited them in for a chat and to congratulate them on the rather spectacular alchemy earlier.

Maes, at least, looked chastised. "Nice of you to jump to that assumption." He frowned, and Sara realized that she had hit a nerve on him. She usually tread a little more cautiously with her words when Maes was tired; he was still more sensitive than some guys, and she knew he still had lingering guilt about his behavior a while back.

"Sorry," Sara offered him an apologetic smile. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, sorry," Maes relaxed and handed the bottle back to Cal.

Cal took another drink. "Honestly? I figured it would be okay when you see what I wrangled from the Mess."

"And just what would be so good that I'd allow drunken and disorderly behavior in my tent?" Sara smirked as she asked. She could guess he'd managed that by flirting with one of the female soldiers on the cook staff. As long as it was _only_ flirting; the man got around more than the common cold sometimes.

Cal smiled wider. "A full tray of hot sweet rolls."

Sara _loved_ those. "With icing?" she couldn't resist asking.

"Slathered," Cal wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "They should be here as soon as they're finished. I'd hate to miss out on those, wouldn't you?"

"You know, bribing a superior officer is a court-martialing offense," Sara said as she put the last few words on her report before setting down her pen. It was good that she was done, since she suspected it would be hours before she would have had a chance to get any more work accomplished.

Cal's grin never faltered. "Bribe? I'm hurt, Twilight. Think of it as an offering brought by house guests to your lovely abode on a rainy evening."

"As long as you don't dare consider yourself a _gentleman caller,_" Sara said, "then I accept your friendly gift."

"Great!" Cal drank again. "I had to flirt outrageously with the _ugliest_ girl on the force to get those, even after our heroics this afternoon!"

"Oh what an ordeal that must have been for you," Maes snorted, leaning back and putting his weight on his hands. "What a shame you had to_ raise _your standards."

Cal's smile vanished. "And who was flirting with that buck-toothed spinster back in Marnot?"  
"I was asking for directions!"

"A likely story."

As the two men bickered, Sara sighed and decided that maybe she could work on the duty rosters for her men tonight after all and opened back up the folding leather binder that held most of her work. She held out hope, but it seemed that nothing had really changed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Spoken dialog in Aerugean is denoted with :: :: marks instead of quotations, and will be so for the remainder of the story. It's easier than constantly saying 'so and so said in this language'

* * *

**November 10****th****, 1951**

Following the river turned out to be simpler than Edward had initially feared. They still hadn't hit any real roads, and as they moved away from the higher mountains the brush along the water grew thicker so they had to walk under the trees. But under the trees remained clear, and they finally began to see signs of human habitation. So it was unsurprising when they finally came upon a village in the middle of one steamy morning when the skies threatened to dump another rainstorm on them. Ed rather hoped it would. The temporary cooling would be appreciated!

They spotted the town from a few miles off as they crested a hill and Ed ordered a brief halt while they considered their options. "We need to be careful," Alphonse cautioned. "We don't want to scare them. If we can avoid violence it might do something to build trust, and if we have to retreat back this way at any point, it would be good not to have made enemies along the way."

"If we have to retreat back this way, we've already lost," Ed sighed but nodded in agreement, "Which means you're right of course."

"That area to the east of town is about where we are going to need to set up camp," Brewster pointed out. "I suggest we just walk right up to town and ask permission and explain the situation."

"Straightforward." That was just what Ed was thinking. "If the people are reasonable than there's no reason for conflict. I'll go."

"Why are you always the first one to volunteer to step up where you can be shot?" Al asked, smirking even though he clearly didn't like it.

"You really think that's likely to happen, Al?" Ed shook his head. "You and I have been walking into situations like this for years, and you're the one who just said we were trying to avoid violence. I'm not going to blow up that poor village by accident or something stupid. This isn't Ishbal." This was hardly a situation they hadn't faced before. They just hadn't done it with an entire army. Two wandering alchemists had been much less circumspect in most cases.

"I didn't say it was," Al frowned. "Why make that comparison?"

"Bad choice of words," Ed conceded. "I'm still going. Even if they've never heard of me I think I can handle something this simple. Besides, my command, my negotiations." He looked between the other two men. Brewster just shrugged. Ed was his commanding officer and he rarely questioned Ed's decisions. That was actually really nice.

Al sighed and nodded consent. "All right, but you'd better take someone with you."

"Well I figured that much," Ed rolled his eyes. "Why, are you volunteering?"

"Yes, actually," Al replied. "But I meant someone who speaks the language. After all, this far out how likely is it that the Aerugeans in that village speak Amestrian?"

"Oh. Good point." That actually wasn't something Ed had really thought about. In Europe he had picked up languages easily. He spoke Cretan fairly well even though he almost never had to use it, some Drachman, and of course now Xing. While he knew a smattering of the Aerugean language he didn't think it would necessarily be enough for good communication. "Got any recommendations?"

"Lieutenant Rodigues in third company lived here for fifteen years," Brewster supplied almost immediately. "I heard him singing in the language the other night and asked him about it."

"Great," Ed grinned. "We'll have the Lieutenant come along then shall we?"

It didn't take long to get things arranged. Ed, Al, and Rodigues were the only ones likely to do any talking, but Ed also brought a handful of Amestrian soldiers of Aerugean or at least half-Aerugean descent. They were good soldiers, a safe backup in case something did happen, but also for immediate effect. Psychological warfare in a different sense.

The small group approached the village and arrived about half an hour ahead of the rest of the army, which Brewster would make sure waited at a predetermined spot until they had permission to move in and camp. On closer inspection, it was actually a decently sized town with what looked like a tavern, and an actual main street with shops and an outdoor market. It looked like an idyllic little spot to spend the night, and maybe a day or two. It had been too long since they had seen civilization, and they needed to get a feel for the local political situation and what they might be getting into. Reports from Central had pretty much nothing on this rural part of the country.

As they walked down a lane that ran past a few ramshackle houses with big farm gardens a child spotted them and ran off, shouting loudly in the local dialect. It was simple enough that even Ed understood him._ Soldiers coming! _The child may not recognize who they were, but from the uniforms he obviously knew they were soldiers. He couldn't be more than six or seven years old.

A small group of men and women met them at the edge of town. All dark haired and tan skinned, and mostly in their thirties or older. They did not seem to be town government or anything so organized, more like those who had any authority who happened to be available. Ed would have expected a similar group in Resembool. Oddly, that thought relaxed him. He smiled at the man about his age that stood in the middle, wringing his hands even though his eyes betrayed no fear.

::Good afternoon,:: Ed spoke first in Aerugean. ::I'm sorry for interrupting your day and your work. I am General Edward Elric of the Amestrian army, the Fullmetal Alchemist, and I have a favor to ask.:: Yeah, it couldn't get much more straight forward.

From the expressions on their faces, Ed's own _self-proclaimed legendary_ status over thirty years ago was not nearly as hopped-up as he could have made it. There was confusion, some fear, suspicion, but a lot of curiosity too as people recognized his name, or at least the title.

It was the man who was wringing his hands who spoke up. ::The Fullmetal Alchemist,:: he repeated, apparently making sure he had heard correctly. ::We heard that the Amestrian Army was on the Trade Road up above Havah. But the news we get out here is old, and often out of date. What favor would you ask of a poor town in a country you have invaded?::

Ed followed most of it, and none of the village seemed surprised when Rodigues translated for Ed and the rest of the Amestrian party. ::We don't want to hurt anyone. Our business is with the new government in Bueáire. They have refused diplomatic negotiations, so we're bringing the negotiations to them. All I ask is permission to camp my men outside your village and perhaps allow them to come into town. We have been marching for weeks. I will promise you their best behavior and no incidents. Your people will not be bothered.:: Heck, anyone who got disorderly or tried to get friendly with the local girls would find themselves dealing with the business end of Ed's alchemy as well as his auto-mail fist. He would likely have to limit the town to officers. There were too many of them really to do otherwise in such a small place. ::Most of them will remain in camp, but the rest who come in could pay.::

::A moment please.:: The man turned and the group moved away a little bit and spoke quietly.

"What do you think they'll do," Ed asked Al quietly while they waited.

"It looks promising," Al admitted. "Or at least peaceful."

When the man returned, he still looked serious, but his hands had stopped twitching. ::We have no use for Amestrian money,:: he replied. ::As I am sure you can understand. However, we have several houses that were damaged in a storm that knocked over several trees, and not the manpower to spare so work is going slowly. The families are eager to move back into their homes. If your men can repair them, than we will agree to your other terms.::

::It's a deal,:: Ed grinned, offering his hand to shake on it.

The man reached out tentatively and took Ed's hand. ::I am Guar Vallo. I run the tavern.::

::Thank you, Guar,:: Ed replied in earnest. ::I'll get men fixing those houses at once.::

* * *

The next several hours were busy ones. By mid-day the camp was pitched, and the entire afternoon was given over to projects in town. Men were assigned to the housing project, which turned out to take most of the afternoon even with plenty of help. Four houses had indeed been damaged by falling trees. The roofs and walls were repaired, and then they helped fix things that were broken inside; beds, tables, and any other furniture. Items that were soaked were dragged out and hung up to dry, and the families were very grateful.

That wasn't all the Amestrians did though. Ed had noticed several fences on the farms in need of repair, or other houses that had leaky roofs. Like any rural town, there were gardens being tended and children playing, though the children had stopped to watch the foreign soldiers with eager interest. Ed put more men to work. Any building with damage was fixed, and any fence or other outdoor structure. Ed even took a moment – and a little alchemy – to smooth out the long-packed dirt road that ran through town, getting rid of several cart ruts and holes he knew were ruinous on wheels. Years – perhaps decades or a century or more - of wear were gone in moments.

By evening, the place looked downright charming, the way Ed expected it had looked years ago. "Why didn't we just fix everything with alchemy?" one of the younger alchemists asked Ed quietly at one point as he finished helping repaint the front of a store – a brilliant blue that was a favorite local color – by hand.

"Because this way they can see the work and how much their hospitality really means to us," Ed replied quietly as he looked around, feeling satisfied with a job well done. "What's it worth if we don't work for it?"

That left the other alchemist lost in thought.

::You will, I hope, accept my hospitality this evening,:: Guar commented later, a little awe in his eyes as he looked at everything that had been accomplished. ::This is far more than we expected.::

::We appreciate your willingness to let us camp here,:: Ed replied with a smile. ::That's a large risk, and an unexpected show of kindness. We have not been expecting so kind a welcome.::

::The men in Bueáire care nothing for us out here,:: Guar replied. ::We profit nothing no matter who claims to run the country. It does us no harm to offer travelers a place to stay, especially when our own country sends no aid when the floods come or the growing season is poor.:: He smiled grimly. ::Personally, I hope you will deliver a message to them for us. Tell them that the people know they are liars and cheats. If they know what is good for them, they will serve as they should or leave us alone.::

::I think I can do that,:: Ed nodded. ::Our message isn't all that different. Then you will understand when I ask you not to speak of our passing to anyone outside the village.::

::Better than that,:: Guar replied. ::I can give you a map with the towns who would be sympathetic to our cause marked. They will not betray you, for it would mean betraying us all. I'm afraid it won't get you all the way to Bueáire.::

::It's far more help than we could ever have expected,:: Ed replied, touched by the offer. ::How can we thank you?::

::By doing what you promise,:: Guar replied. ::Your reputation precedes you, Edward Elric; yours and your brother's. I do not trust the Amestrian government to care any more for us than our own, but when I hear something enough times, I tend to believe it.::

No pressure there. Ed chuckled. ::I should find out just what exactly you have heard.::

* * *

Guar's hospitality turned out to be a hearty feast of local cuisine for all of Ed's upper officers, as well as a large donation delivered to the mess hall for the soldiers. Ed had almost never eaten Aerugean food, and it was an experience he would never forget. There were stuffed peppers, and at least a half a dozen variations on _'meat and vegetables rolled into a tortilla and cooked and smothered in some delicious sauce._' A lot of it was heavy, fried, and filling; good farm food and much appreciated after days of hiking and a good day of honest work. There were foods wrapped in fruit leaves and a spicy soup made with lots of fish, and even desserts made from fried fruits and dipped in sweet cream. The flavors were completely unfamiliar, and absolutely divine.

When the meal was over, there was a lot of pleasant conversation. Guar and his family ran the tavern, but he was also the de facto leader in town because of his common sense and knowledge of the world outside. Many of the townsfolk joined them during dessert and drinks afterwards, and the atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant and sociable. If Ed hadn't known better, he would never have pictured this happening between locals and an invading force.

::Grandpa,:: a small girl came streaking out of the back with tears streaming down her face. She held up a small doll with a porcelain face. The dress it wore was fancy, in the old Aerugean style, with layers of red fabric and black lace, and the hair looked like real hair, not horsehair; a quality gift certainly. But the dress was torn and the face was badly cracked. ::The doggie ate Maritza!::

Guar scooped her up into his arms and hugged her. ::There, there Anza,:: he cooed. ::These things happen.::

::But she's hurt!:: Anza cried, burying her face in Guar's shoulder and sobbing.

Ed's heart ached. He couldn't stand to see kids cry like that. ::Anza,:: he spoke up, hoping he wasn't stepping badly out of place in the situation. ::May I see Maritza?::

Everyone's attention went to him as the little girl looked up and sniffed through her tears. ::You won't hurt her will you?::

::Of course not,:: Ed shook his head and smiled reassuringly. ::But I'm a pretty good doll doctor.::

::Okay,:: she said after a very long moment. Gingerly she held out the doll and let Ed take it from her hands.

The damage looked bad, but even if it had been smashed almost beyond recognition Ed could have managed _this_ transmutation. Heck, he could have done it when he was ten. He brought his palms together and then laid them over the doll. A brief flash of light later the doll lay on the table in perfect condition. Ed grinned as he handed her back. ::There you are. Good as new.::

Anza's eyes were bigger than the stuffed peppers they had eaten earlier. Then she giggled and grabbed the doll, hugging her tightly. ::Thank you!::

::Now you put Maritza in your room where she will stay safe,:: Guar chastised her gentle as he set the girl down. ::And close your door.:: He watched the little girl scamper off then grinned at Ed. ::My daughter's daughter,:: he explained. ::She's three. Do you have children?::

::Three,:: Ed replied. ::One daughter, two sons; and a grandson,:: he added the last with a smirk.

::Can they all do what you do?:: Guar asked.

::Alchemy? My daughter, Sara, is a State Alchemist. My youngest son is also learning,:: Ed replied conversationally. Al was wrapped up in a conversation with some of the local farmers and he suspected they would be talking for quite some time given the interest they were paying to each other. Neither was using a translator tonight. After a day in the place, they were both much more comfortable with the local language.

Guar proved once more how observant he was. ::Your daughter is with the other army?::

::She is,:: Ed nodded. ::I worry, but I'm proud of her too.::

Guar nodded, smiling. ::If she is like you, than you should be.::

* * *

"I have _got_ to figure out how to make some of that," Ed grinned afterwards as they made their way back to camp at a very leisurely pace. No one seemed inclined to hurry. It had been over a month since they'd had anything to eat other than their measured military rations, and everyone had eaten their fill, though the Amestrian officers had drunk sparingly, if at all. Their host had understood and not been offended. Indeed, he had told Ed he found them all surprisingly sensible.

"Just don't share the secrets with my family," Al chuckled with a groan.

Ed smirked wickedly up at his brother. "But that would be selfish." He felt good, relaxed. The village was quiet, night having fallen some time ago, and his instincts told him they were safe.

"You can give them to _my _wife," Matthias Wood chuckled. "She's always complaining she can't think of anything new and interesting to make."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ed promised. "Guar said he would ask his wife if she was willing to share any of her recipes with me." He was sure his family would love them and given the nature of the trip, he doubted he would be bringing back much in the way of souvenirs.

"You know, this place is really nice," Brewster smiled as he walked beside them.

"It's not so different from home," Al agreed. "Okay, so it's in a jungle, and nothing's built the same, but you know what I mean."

"I know," Ed smiled in agreement, looking up into the night sky strewn with familiar stars. The angles were a little different, but he had been watching that sky ever since he was a child in Resembool. "They're good people, and they're the real reason we're here."

The others in the group quieted down at that statement, and they walked in relative silence back to camp. What the others were pondering, Ed didn't know, but he found himself lost in thoughts of how really, when you got rid of the unimportant differences, people were just people.

**November 14****th****, 1951**

After the battle on the road, Armstrong's First Division made it to their second major position without any further conflicts until they reached the town of Safânte. There was a minor skirmish outside of town, but the Amestrians quickly overwhelmed the Aerugean soldiers stationed there and took control of the train station and the road. Other than that, they left the town alone. The assigned units set up a more permanent camp separate from the rest of the army, which would be on the move again within a couple of days. Next major stop: Havah.

The night before they would be leaving again, Sara found herself wandering through camp with a little unexpected free time. Her men were settled down for the night, sitting around campfires swapping stories, smoking, and playing cards. There was some drinking too, but this wasn't leave, and she had made it clear early on that any man hung-over on the march would suffer from more than a bad head when she found out about it! She had already made examples of two men, and the rest had taken her seriously from then on out.

"Lieutenant Colonel Elric," someone called out her name from a nearby fire, and Sara spotted several soldiers sitting around it chatting quietly. The one who had spoken was one of her Lieutenants. "Would you like to join us?"

"Sure," Sara smiled, changing direction and joining them, dropping down between two of them cross-legged. "Thanks." It was mixed company, a couple of women with the men, she noticed. There were eight of them all told.

"Have a drink," a Sergeant smiled, handing the bottle they were passing around in her direction.

"Dare I ask?" Sara chuckled as it came around.

"Local stuff," a young private –he _had_ to be freshly out of training – grinned. "Pretty good tequila."

As Sara had suspected; something to treat with caution. There were days she regretted her lack of tolerance, if only for occasions like this, where it was nice to sit around with fellow soldiers and gab. But it was for the best in the long run she was sure. Fortunately she had learned more tricks over the years than even her friend Lina had known for hanging out without risking rank or reputation. She took the bottle, tilted it up, and waited a second before bringing it down again. She got enough for a taste, but it was little more than enough to really wet her lips. "Thanks," she smiled, handing it on around. Now, she could politely decline further offers and no one would think her strange. She _was_ an officer after all. "What's the occasion?"

"Robbs here got a letter from home this morning," the Sergeant clapped the Private on the back. "His sweetheart's makin' him a daddy."

"You make it sound illegit, Tanson," Private Robbs mock-glared at his friend as he shoved him with one hand. "Raina's my _wife_."

"Of three months," Sergeant Tanson sniggered. "_When's_ the baby due?"

Sara congratulated Robbs and then stayed out of the ensuing heckling as her mildly tipsy subordinates celebrated the good news in typical fashion. She always enjoyed anyone getting good news. It was rare enough sometimes, especially in their line of work. Just from sitting there, she picked up some of the story. Robbs and his wife had been high school sweethearts and gotten married as soon as he finished basic training. Sara could hardly imagine what that would have been like. She'd have married Mars Leighton for starters, and probably have a couple of kids by now if her family was _any_ indication. Life would have been very different. Really, she was_ quite_ happy with the way things were.

"You're quiet," the woman to her right smiled. "Not having fun?"

"Lost in thought," Sara corrected, chuckling. "So what about you?"

"Vera," she offered her name. "MSG Cauls on duty, and my story," she chuckled, "Is that I don't really have one. Didn't date much in school. My folks have six kids so I kind of jumped ship the moment I had the chance and joined the military and ended up at Southern Headquarters. It was pretty crazy at home. I'm not really in a hurry to have any of my own. What about you, Twilight Alchemist," her eyes twinkled playfully. "People talk about officers all the time of course, but no one seems to have much confirmed on you. Care to set the record straight?"

Sara wondered just what the rumors about her were. Perhaps she should see about finding out. Now seemed as good a time as any. "Just what are people _saying_?"

"Well there's plenty of old talk," Vera shrugged, leaning back and sipping as the bottle came around again. "Stories that put you with a couple of guys way back, including our Major Mustang." She eyed Sara as if waiting for a reaction.

"Consider that one debunked," Sara laughed. "We've been friends since childhood and nothing more."

"That's a shame," Vera chuckled, not sounding particularly sorry. "He sounds like a lot of fun. What about his arch rival?"

_Who?_ "You mean Fischer?" Sara guessed.

"Yeah, him. He's even hotter," Vera handed Sara the bottle. "I thought the fireworks between those two might be some kind of jealousy thing, you know. At least, that's one of the theories."

"Jealousy maybe, but not over me," Sara shook her head, glad she didn't have to directly make a statement about hers and Cal's interactions. "They just don't like each other because of some stuff in the past, and the fact that they both have too much ego for their own good." She shrugged then smiled. "But your sources must be pretty lousy if that's all you can dig up. So I'll throw a little kindling on the fire for you. I _did_ have a boyfriend before I took the Exam and became a State Alchemist. He went off to University in Creta and he's an architect now; travels all over doing designs for buildings. No torrid romance there either. We just agreed it was over when we finished school and went our own ways. We're still friends." Sara passed the bottle on without drinking. Since she was talking no one noticed.

"Sweet story, but hardly the stuff great fireside gossip is made of," Vera laughed. "There's nothing juicy in this story anywhere. You're going to disappoint an awful lot of guys who imagine you as this tempestuous, exciting, mysterious woman."

Sara was glad she hadn't taken a sip, or it would have sprayed everywhere. "I'm just an alchemist," she replied, regaining her composure. "I'm no more mysterious than anyone else. Tempestuous, well, that's a laugh." She smirked. "Though it will probably disappoint them more to know that I _do_ have a good looking boyfriend back home waiting for me to get back." She had written a couple of letters home in the last month, and received_ three_ from Franz. There was no way he was waiting to receive hers first anymore than she waited for his before writing. It was just nice to get them. Each one talked about what was going on at home and how much he missed her.

Sara went ahead and fished out the picture of him she kept in her shirt pocket. She handed it to Vera, who whistled. "That _is_ one find looking man. Does he have a brother?"

"A married-off little sister," Sara chuckled, taking the picture back and putting it safely where it belonged. She watched the sparks dance in the air above the fire, rising up into the cloudy night sky, making their own stars. "I miss him. It's funny, but while I knew I would, I didn't realize how it would really feel. I've always been independent, but sometimes all I want is to be at home." In Franz's arms.

"That would be nice," Vera leaned back. "To feel that way sometime. There's a guy back in South City I should really ask out when this is all over."

Sara stifled the urge to comment about if they all got back at all. That was one of her more pessimistic thoughts, and she knew the soldiers here all knew as well as she did how likely the eventuality was. "You should," she said instead. She wondered what Franz was doing right now.

**November 20****th****, 1951**

There were worse things than slogging through the rain with a fifty pound pack and a grouchy llama nipping at him at every opportunity, but Edward couldn't say he remembered any of them at the moment. Really, he minded Cash more than the rain. He had his poncho on over his uniform so only his boots were actually wet and muddy.

It had been nine days since they left the little village behind, but it seemed longer. It had been raining almost non-stop for the past four days, and the pleasant surprise of some well-packed food for the road by Guar's wife was long gone (though Ed did have several recipes for his troubles!). It had been almost impossible to cook hot food under these conditions. It was only the inclusion of alchemists in the ranks that made starting any fires even possible, let alone keeping them burning.

"I guess maybe you just don't like the rain any more than the rest of us, huh?" Ed commented to the llama, who glanced over at him with a sullen glare.

"Talking to yourself now, Ed?" Al asked from the other side of him.

"No, just the llama," Ed snorted.

"Which is so much better," Al laughed, sounding in entirely too good a mood for the weather.

"Shut up, Al." If they hadn't been following the river, they would likely have been well and truly lost by now. As it was, they hadn't had to vary from the river much and when they had, they had used the local map Guar had provided them with. They had avoided one seriously remote military militia outpost, and were headed for one of the towns Guar had said should be friendly. Ed just hoped he was right. So far, this whole thing seemed almost entirely too easy. "Do you think I'm paranoid for thinking this is going too well?"

"You mean because we just walked into a hostile country for over a month without any fighting or conflict whatsoever?" Al shrugged, the rain running even faster off the shoulders of his poncho. "No, that seems reasonable. Though I really think it just means our plan is working the way it was supposed to and we're doing everything right."

"Good," Ed nodded, smiling despite the weather. "Cause I was just thinking, if we can keep this up, we might walk most of the way down to Bueáire without any trouble at all!"

"I wouldn't get _that_ cocky if I were you," Al shook his head. "Sure we had a stroke of luck and some good negotiation with that first village, but we haven't even gotten anywhere near a real battle scenario. If we get too confident, we won't be ready."

"Since when are you the pessimist?" Ed snorted.

"Pragmatist," Al corrected, smirking. "Someone has to be realistic. You keep dreaming, Ed. While you're at it, you want to dream us up a dry place to spend the night and maybe a little company?"

"Sure, I'll make yours short, fat, and Drachman," Ed replied wickedly.

"I was thinking of Elicia," Al countered. "But if that's _your_ preference…."

"Ugh, hell no!" Ed shuddered. "You were the one who suggested female company."

"I didn't think I needed to specify _who_," Al sighed. "I think I envy everyone in the Northern force just for the ability to write home and get letters. I miss Elicia, and I feel bad that all she gets is what we have time for during a transmission, if anything."

"Oh you got a message from her just last time," Ed shrugged, trying not to fidget. The rain had shifted and there was a cold run dripping down into his boot off his pants now and pooling down in his boot. "Remember? Breda passed it on."

"Yeah," Al's expression lightened. It had been a brief 'love you' but Al had been happier about it than Ed had expected him to be for something so simple. Of course, Al had always been much more the romantic type than Ed was. "I hope she's all right, and Alyse too."

"They're at home," Ed pointed out, feeling his mood dropping again. He wasn't really in the mood to talk about home. "What could possibly happen?"

That sent Al off on a long ramble about all his concerns about what could be happening to his daughter in high school which was apparently _fraught _with dangers for a smart, beautiful girl like Alyse. Frankly, Ed was sure Al was over-reacting. Sara had survived high school intact, and Alyse wasn't exactly naïve. Still, listening to Al ramble was better than mulling over his own thoughts.

Yes, there _were_ worse things than slogging through the rain with a llama nipping at him, but right now, Ed rather wished he were doing any number of them.


	7. Chapter 7

**December 12****th****, 1951**

"So that's Havah," Sara looked at the city as they moved towards it. She hadn't been entirely sure what to expect. While a lot of soldiers raved about the place and used to vacation here, she had never been anywhere quite like it herself. Frankly, the types of entertainments available in Havah just didn't really appeal to her. While she enjoyed a good game of cards or dice – and was actually quite good at both – she did not like taking risks with money. The indulgent lifestyle held nothing that she wanted and a lot that she despised. She couldn't imagine anyone in her family having a reason to come here, at least until now.

Intelligence had informed them that things in the city were complicated. A lot of the money in Aerugo was in Havah, and the backers of the new government mostly made their homes there. They would not take kindly to the Amestrians' arrival, even if they were here specifically to escort out the trapped tourists and businessmen who wanted to leave. Though it looked like a lot of those specific wealthy individuals had already vacated to the relative safety of the Capitol.

"Looks like a good time to me," Cal commented. "Once we deal with the armed welcome committee we should take in the sights."

"Or get taken in by the girls," Maes snorted.

"Good idea," Cal grinned. "Just think, an entire city of beautiful women who don't care about permanent attachment."

"How tacky," Tybalt sighed from behind Sara, and she silently agreed.

"Better watch yourself, Whitewater," Sara glared over at him. "This isn't leave. This is war, and any complicating factors will not be treated lightly."

"I'm careful," Cal shrugged. "And we'll get business done first, as usual. Have I ever put pleasure before duty, Twilight?"

Sara bristled. "Just don't make me regret letting you live this long." She quietly entertained thoughts of getting Cal _accidentally _left in Aerugo, but knew it would never happen.

For once, their battalions were not on the front lines of the engagement, so Sara, Franklin, and Banes spent a lot of time waiting around for orders. Not that they were complaining. Their men were pretty tired from the brisk pace they had kept all the way down here and being in the thick of things for two months. Despite Sara's comment to Cal about this not being leave there was a lot of hope that, once they took the city, there _would _be a little rest before they had to move on to the next phase of the operation. Word from Central was only that their _friends_ (the Eastern Division) were doing well and progressing better than expected. Sara only knew that because Armstrong and Kane trusted her with that information. If that was the case, then they could conceivably get a little leave in before making the push South. The difficult part was the fact that, in order for the plan to succeed, they would also need to hold all of _Havah_.

So the Amestrians set up camp a couple of miles beyond the city walls, and settled in for what would hopefully be a short engagement. They were under orders to try negotiating with the city itself for release of the refugees, with the hope that since their business had mostly dried up, those other than the powerful few might see sense and be willing to do it in order to save their businesses.

**December 14****th****, 1951**

Unsurprisingly, negotiations failed to meet with the results the Amestrians were hoping for. Two days after their arrival, they laid siege to the city. Sara was glad that the Aerugean standing army was smaller than Amestris' in general, because the force they were facing was only about half of what they still had with them, if that. The estimation that came back after the first battle was that there was only about a quarter of them. But this was their territory, and they could retreat behind the walls of the city. They could not afford to turn this into a street-by-street situation.

"We will just have to whittle them down the long way," General Armstrong sighed during a strategic meeting that evening.

"Is there anything you can do to hasten things?" General Rehnquist asked, looking at Kane and then at Sara, being the two alchemists he asked questions of most. Sara wondered if he was even aware of how much he was taking the advice of a Lieutenant Colonel when he looked at her, but she suspected that it wasn't her rank that he paid attention to anymore.

"It's difficult to take them out without potentially hurting civilians," Kane sighed, looking strained. The war was taking its toll on Sara's commanding officer as much as it was on the rest of the alchemists. They were all doing their share, and he was commanding several battalions on top of that. "If they stopped retreating into the city we would have them."

"We could just try walling them _out_ of the city," Sara suggested as they all looked at the map of Havah and the surrounded area on the table between them. "A little alchemy and local bedrock after they come out. We would probably split their force instead of getting all of them, but it would allow us to pick them off with no option of retreat on their part." She winced inwardly even as she calmly made the pronouncement. It felt odd to be so dispassionate about suggesting a way that would certainly send hundreds or thousands of men to their deaths, and slightly disturbing that it did not bother her much anymore. "I expect we could only get away with the tactic once, maybe twice if we're lucky before they catch on and either retreat completely into the city or come up with a new strategy or counter-measures." So this was war. She would feel guilty later when she had the luxury.

"Simple, but effective," Rehnquist nodded. "How many alchemists would it take to create a wall of that magnitude?"

"About a dozen," Kane took over then. He could run the statistics and weigh those kinds of things in his head in seconds when Sara still took minutes to mull them over. "I'd say fourteen to be on the safe side and keep from exhausting anyone too badly. Twilight," he looked to Sara. "Pick thirteen more alchemists you think can work as a team and be ready for a little unconventional warfare. Tell Tybalt he'll have the Battalion for this one and he should report directly to me during the engagement."

"Yes, Sir," Sara replied. She hadn't expected to get shuffled into a full alchemist command for a special unit, but she supposed she should have seen it coming as soon as she suggested the strategy. Tybalt could handle the Battalion for a few hours. Though it felt odd somehow, almost wrong to her, to be leaving her men even after so short a time commanding them. They were a unit, they worked together.

When the meeting broke up, Sara dropped in beside Kane as they left the tent. "May I talk to you for a minute, Sir," she asked quietly.

"Of course, Twilight," Kane nodded, looking around before they stepped off the main walk through camp and down a side path that took them along the edge of camp, near the woods. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't say something was wrong," Sara pointed out with a small smile.

"I've known you too long not to realize otherwise," Kane chuckled softly. "There's something weighing on your mind."

"Two somethings," Sara confirmed and corrected. "The first is that it feels kind of odd to be commanding somewhere other than my men during the battle. Not that I mind commanding a Special Forces unit for this," she added hastily. "But I feel like I'm abandoning the people who trust me during battle, and leaving them without my support."

"Except you _are_ supporting them," Kane looked at her pointedly. "You're setting up their target for them and making it a lot easier for them to do their jobs. It's pretty hard to miss when you're shooting fish in a barrel, or enemies caught between you and a wall."

"That's the other thing bothering me," Sara admitted. "This is my plan. I suggested it, I'm carrying it out, and I think it will work, but I'm purposefully setting up to kill people in a way that feels underhanded. They won't have a fair chance to fight back like this."

"And that bothers you," Kane said.

"It bothers me," Sara nodded, stopping under an old twisted tree. It looked like it had been struck by lightning at some point, charred and leafless and at odds with the thick forest of green around them. "Because it doesn't bother me as much as it should."

Understanding came into Kane's eyes. "Welcome to the ranks. We've got insignia, a club, and free guilt trips on request." The part that hit Sara hardest in his quip was the lack of sarcasm evident in the statement.

"I know I'm going to regret doing this later, and I'm doing it anyway," she sighed. "No wonder they keep professional counselors on staff at the military hospital in Central."

"No one said this would be easy," Kane pointed out after a moment. "But I wouldn't have recommended you for the position if I didn't think you could handle it and excel at it. In a lot of ways, you're a better _officer_ than Fullmetal will ever be; than half of the rest of us for that matter."

"How do you figure that?" Sara asked, confused though she supposed she ought to feel more complimented. "I mean, Mustang and Breda always keep tossing him into everything."

"Because he's effective," Kane replied, looking off into the gathering darkness as he spoke. The sounds of the night life of the jungle were off to their right, while the sounds of the encampment and the glow of campfires lit the world to their left. "People follow Edward because he's the real deal; a hero who cares about what happens to the other people under him and won't betray his country _or_ his morals. But that means he also doesn't always obey orders or follow the rules. He'll find every loophole and exploit it if necessary, or go ahead and right out defy an order without a second thought. Mustang figured out how to circumvent that problem by putting your Dad at the top of the food chain and handing him assignments practically hand tailored to be handled by Fullmetal's way of dealing with situations. It's a lot like the way Mustang would have preferred to handle things given the option." It was obvious that Kane had actually talked to Roy Mustang at some point, or a lot of other people who knew him well; probably both. "Ed's loyalty, tenacity, and his brains are what make him a great leader, but not necessarily a great officer. Do you see the difference?"

Sara nodded. That certainly described her father. "Sort of." She wondered if Kane realized he had dropped almost entirely out of proper military formalities.

Kane's expression remained thoughtful as he turned his face and looked directly at her. "You've got a much longer fuse, and you don't have to think twice about being a team player and taking orders and trusting your superiors to be sensible. Part of that's the difference in the military we have today," Kane conceded, "But it's also a difference in how you think and react. You're much better at maintaining critical distance when it comes to these kinds of decisions. Actually, Ed's great at it, but only until the situation is over."

"I noticed." Sara knew only too well what happened to her father afterwards. "At least, I remember after Xing but, what about Drachma?"

"He didn't have to order anyone to the slaughter with Drachma," Kane replied. "Not on either side. The alchemists were used entirely defensively, and he and Mustang had that plan for dealing with the Ice Alchemist. The way I hear it and figure, Ed was used to dealing with killing face to face, one on one in direct combat. Or at least, he had accepted the necessity. Dueling the Ice Alchemist to protect everyone on both sides fit perfectly into his world view and his role as an alchemist."

"How do we justify this kind of thing with '_be thou for the people?_'" Sara asked then.

"We can only hope that, in the long run, what we do will be the best decision, because sometimes in the short term we can't see that," Kane sighed. "In a war, people are going to die, and we have to make choices based on _who_ dies and how many, and in what way, more than if they do or don't. It's about the best for many, not the few who choose to put their lives on the line. Everyone here came having accepted the fact that they may die out here. _We_ accept the responsibility of making sure that if they do, it's for the right reasons."

It made sense. This wasn't really the first time Sara had contemplated some of these things, but it was the first time it had been immediately applicable and began to make sense. It put her a little more at ease with the decisions she had just made as well. "But then, why the hell did Dad volunteer for… his mission?" She glanced around even though no one was within easy ear or eye shot.

Kane shrugged and they started moving again. "He must have felt it was happening for the right reasons."

**December 20****th****, 1951**

Sara's strategy worked beautifully. She still had some reservations about leaving her men, but even Tybalt had assured her that orders were orders and that wasn't her fault. When a large rock wall hundreds of yards long and thirty feet tall erupted across the back of the Aerugean line, cutting them off completely from the city, it really was like picking off rats that had spent a week straight in a grain silo. It took an hour for the trapped Aerugeans to realize that they couldn't get out of the situation they were in and surrender, having lost over half their men. Sara felt guilty, but she didn't beat herself up over it.

The alchemists went through the trouble of dropping the wall that night, then crashing hard after a well-earned meal and sleeping well into the next day on Armstrong's direct orders. The fighting continued the next day, but the remaining Aerugeans were cautious, and the entire day's fighting really was no more than taking pot-shots at each other. There was nothing pitched about the battle.

The next day the alchemists pulled their stunt again. This time, the Aerugeans surrendered almost at once, figuring it was better to be taken prisoner than die against the wall. Still though, Havah did not surrender. They were cutting into the Amestrian numbers as well, and they were well stocked on supplies even when the Amestrians had wrapped around the entire city and cut off all incoming or outgoing traffic. They could sit out a proper siege for a couple of weeks, and the Amestrians probably couldn't maintain it that long.

It was two days later when the break finally came. The Amestrian Division had decimated or captured over half of Havah's remaining defensive military force. The Aerugeans had learned their lesson about stepping out beyond the city. They knew that the Amestrians would not risk civilian lives, and they could not bring up their stone wall in the city itself.

Sara was seated at a table in the Mess tent with Cal, Maes, and the rest of the alchemists in her temporary unit when Kane sauntered up to the table with a smirk on his face.

"Something funny, Brigadier?" Cal quipped, grinning as he looked up at Kane.

"You could say that, Whitewater," Kane replied, ignoring the impudence. "How do you all feel about sinkholes?"

The strategy was simple. Instead of creating a wall to hold Aerugeans out of Havah, they would sink the edge of the city and essentially _suck _them out of the edge of the city, which was pretty much abandoned by any sane civilian at this point anyway. They could see that much from where they stood with a good set of binoculars. Taking out a few empty buildings was not a problem. If anyone else wasn't willing to get out of the way, well, then that was their own stupidity.

The attack happened in the early morning, before the time where the lines normally formed up for the day. The alchemists slipped out of camp before dawn, arranged themselves equidistant from each other at the point Kane and Armstrong had decided was the best place to bring down the city wall, since it exposed the most soldiers, the fewest civilians, and left the best route for the rest of the army into the city. The pre-planned signal was a small _flare _sent up by Maes. At that light, they all began transmuting at once and the earth along the wall became one giant sinkhole about twenty feet deep.

The Aerugeans didn't stand a chance. By the time they straightened themselves out enough to deal with the chaos, the wall was gone, several buildings toppled, and a lot of men were out of commission for the foreseeable future. There were losses, but surprisingly few. The military sent out officers to surrender within the hour, and Amestris took control of Havah.

**December 24****th****, 1951**

The landscape was changing around them. The higher mountains were behind them, and those that lined the river had dropped to rolling and jungle covered. There was more underbrush under the trees now, and more up and down in the smaller hills of the landscape, like partially wrinkled sheets.

Alphonse missed clean sheets. Hell, he missed a real bed with blankets and pillows…and Elicia snuggled up beside him. His bedroll on a one-man military issue cot was no comparison.

Two months of trudging and they were still on track with the original timeline. The map they had gotten in the first village had proven invaluable and much more accurate than what they had brought with them. They had only stopped at one more of the villages listed on it so far for necessary resupply and a little rest after a particularly tough stretch of trail that had lasted three days.

They were about a day from their next scheduled village and Al was looking forward to the stop. It was hard to go on, day after day, with their only human contact the soldiers themselves. It made him feel very isolated from the world, and the villages – full of families and life going on as normal – reminded him of home and helped him stay connected.

Not that there was anything wrong with the soldiers. Al had actually found command much easier than he expected so far, and rather rewarding. The men respected him. Disputes came to him regularly, and problems with supply were not hard to deal with. Since there wasn't really anything for the soldiers to do to get into trouble – outside of a few relatively harmless pranksters that had been dealt with – there weren't a lot of discipline issues that couldn't be handled by immediate superiors. Being a General meant not having to deal with a lot of that.

Al was glad for what work he had aside from filling out reports and, a lot of the time, being the primary one to report in once a week via radio. Brewster did it occasionally, but Al was best at getting the information across with an efficiency of words and had the clearest voice over the radio. Not that he minded that job. He enjoyed it, and it was another connection to the world outside of trees and dirt, river and sky. Ed was so focused on the immediacy of what they were doing, and what was coming next, that he seemed to forget about home unless Al reminded him. Well, that was pretty typical for Ed on a mission. He tended to lose track of just about everything else when his mind was wrapped around something.

The last report from home had been reassuring. The Northern force was in Havah almost perfectly on schedule. He was contemplating how fast they could get home if things kept moving this well when something whizzed through the air above his head, and took the leaves off a nearby branch. Then he heard what had to be the second bang – definitely gunshot – and another bullet flew by in front of his face. _Shit!_ Al dodged, and went for the nearest tree.

Behind them along the old road they had been following a soldier fell, shouting out as he grabbed his shoulder and tumbled into the dirt. Immediately the men around him jerked alert and aimed in the direction from which the barrage came, firing back. The firing from the forest redoubled and spread.

"How the hell did they find out we were out here?" Ed snarled, ducking behind the tree next to Al and slamming his palms together.

"Maybe someone in the last village didn't like us as much as we thought," Al suggested, doing the same. Though that didn't explain how the Aerugean military would have gotten out here quite so fast.

They couldn't form ranks and advance, not with the rises on both sides of the road and the thick forest around them. How the heck was an enemy force even holding together in this mess?

It was when he first got a look at the enemy that Al realized that they had drastically misread the situation. A couple of over-eager men charged up through the trees and almost over-stepped the edge onto the road. Neither of them was wearing any kind of uniform and, when they saw each other, they aimed their rifles at each other and fired instead. Both missed wildly and vanished back into the woods.

This wasn't a planned retaliation by the Aerugean government, but a local dispute! Civil war in essence. They had simply walked right into it without knowing what was coming. When they had shot back, both sides had turned on the unknown force, possibly even assuming that the Amestrians were actually the other side. "They're civilians," Al shouted over the firing. "What do we do?"

"Fight back!" Ed rolled his eyes as if that should be obvious. "If you can get them to stop without killing them Al, be my guest. But I'm not telling our men to stop firing."

"But they didn't mean to fire on us," Al countered.

"Of course they did, they shot didn't they?" Ed glared at him. "This is a war, Al, and I doubt they're going to stop firing when they realize we're an _invading army._"

Well down the line, Al heard Hal Brewster barking orders and other officers taking up the call. They were backing off the road in the direction that the enemy _wasn't_ and getting out of the line of fire. Suddenly, Al understood what Brewster was planning. He looked at Ed. "If we retreat into the forest and move away, there's a good chance they'll just resume firing on each other. They don't seem to have realized who we are yet."

"You have a point," Ed sighed, "But I'm not leaving too much to chance." He dropped to the ground and extended both palms. On the other side of the road the dirt of the hill rose up another five feet into a wall that topped the hill and made coming over it inconvenient and time consuming. "I'll drop it when we get away from here," he added when Al opened his mouth to ask how that_ wasn't _going to give away that the enemy had come through here.

"All right," Al sighed and then headed down the line, barking his own orders. The men retreated like the well trained soldiers they were, and stopped firing. As quickly as a Division of 10,000 men could with pack animals – which turned out to be surprisingly quickly in this place – they faded into the forest and kept moving.

For the rest of the day, they kept eyes and ears on alert while trying to make time and put distance between themselves and the fighting behind them. Al was not surprised when Ed decided to avoid the next village and aim for the next on Guar's list. "It's too risky," Ed explained when they stopped briefly to talk strategy and make a new plan. "We're going to get slowed down some, but I think we need to stick to the woods and avoid contact with people as much as possible aside from necessary stops."

"That does sound like our best plan," Brewster sighed, looking like he wanted to object but couldn't see any alternative. "We can't stick to the roads. Too many people are apparently actually using them."

"What do you think that was about?" Al asked.

"Civil war," Ed replied with a shrug. "Locals taking it upon themselves to dispute what's going on in the capitol at the cost of lives the big city money will never notice." There was a harsh bitterness in his words, and Al wondered what Ed had against the Aerugean government.

"You sound like you know them personally," Brewster snorted.

"Very possibly at least one of them," Ed admitted to Al's surprise. "Or rather, the backer. I don't think the bastard is dumb enough to get directly political. He's got too much at stake."

"Who are you talking about?" Al asked. He had been fairly certain that Ed had never been to Aerugo in his life. After all, Al hadn't been, and Ed had never been sent this way on any kind of official mission.

"You remember that mission Winry and I both took about oh… eight years ago?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, it was top secret," Al nodded. _Oh!_ "You were in Aerugo?"

"Havah to be exact," Ed nodded, looking at him and Brewster. "We got a report of an incomplete stone that somehow the government missed in the hands of an illegal alchemical supply dealer named Joachim Arnan. He owns the Blood Phoenix Casino in Havah and runs his business out of there."

Al listened intently to this story he had never heard. He was shocked to hear that Ed and Winry had managed to pull off undercover work, let alone what they'd had to do in order to get a hold of the stone! "So, you think Arnan is involved in all this," he said finally when Ed finished what was surely a shorter, edited version of events.

"It stinks of him," Ed nodded. "He's one of the wealthiest men in Aerugo and this kind of regime would make him even wealthier. I'd bet a month's rations he's at least got one of the new cabinet members safely tucked away in his pocket." Yeah, he was definitely serious. "But anyway," Ed went on. "Just from the feel of the place then, it doesn't surprise me that there's violence breaking out even out here. We need to be careful. Neither side of a violent conflict here will welcome us getting involved in their internal affairs."

Ed was right. Al trusted his brother's judgment of people's motivations and tendencies, as long as Ed's own emotions were not personally involved. While he questioned how detached Ed could remain in regards to Arnan and the regime, he knew Ed wouldn't risk lives needlessly even if he didn't like them. The locals he was probably dead on about. Having seen the pride they had in their own villages and families in the couple of towns they had been in, Al was pretty sure Ed was right on the money.

Well, it looked like they were going to be doing things a little differently. Al just hoped it didn't slow them down_ too _much. They needed to hit Bueáire about the same time the other force did, if not before. Just a couple more months and hopefully they would be heading back home.


	8. Chapter 8

**January 5****th****, 1952**

It was hardly the way Sara would have expected to have spent the beginning of a new year if someone had asked her about it at the beginning of last year. As it was, she almost missed the change in years entirely they were so busy in Havah.

There had been lots to do, and no time wasted in locating all the Amestrians and other foreigners in Havah. The moment the announcement was made city wide that people were being evacuated, those who wanted to go home were more than willing to come out of hiding – or captivity depending – and flock to the trains that came in a couple of days after the Amestrians took the city. Several thousand people were ready to go home.

The difficulty came with the number of Aerugeans who also wanted out of the country. There were thousands of them, and there was the strict order against expatriation. Amestris would not be taking Aerugeans out of their country at this time. It was too complicated and would only strain the already difficult situation. In Central, Breda was still trying to talk some sense into the Aerugean government with little success.

It slowed things down because it meant that every person who wanted on the trains had to prove their citizenship to their claimed country of origin, and the rest had to be turned away. Families got priority on boarding, though very few people brought _children_ on vacations to Havah, so that was minimal. Couples and elderly came next and on down the list.

There were also several hundred soldiers who had been on leave in Aerugo when the border closed as well who were _more _than happy to return to service immediately. A lot of single Amestrian men who weren't military offered to join up as well on the spot. If they were able, they were accepted. They filled in the ranks of the men already lost in the war, and the holes left by the dead were smaller.

By the fifth of the year the last of the trains was finally loaded and followed the others back on up the tracks towards Amestris in a long line that was guarded by several regiments, some riding on the train and some patrolling the tracks. The pack-train of refugees moved a little slower than trains might normally, but it was for the added protection of the people.

As the last train pulled out of the station, Sara sat down on a bench with a sigh of relief. Now maybe they would get a break.

"Don't sit down just yet, Lieutenant Colonel," Major Tybalt commented with a sympathetic smile as he walked up and offered her a drink from his canteen. "There's a meeting in Armstrong's offices in twenty minutes." The Amestrians had set up camp within the city once the alchemists had repaired the destruction they had done to Havah's walls, taking up a now-abandoned hotel and setting up a tent-city in Havah's biggest park, turning the manicured landscaping into nothing more than a glorified camp site.

"So much for a hot bubble bath and a massage," Sara quipped with a sardonic smile, taking the canteen. What was amusing was the fact that despite the occupation of the city, a lot of those businesses did continue to operate, and the locals went about life as if very little was wrong now that they knew the Amestrians weren't going to get unnecessarily violent within the city itself.

Sara drank, handed the canteen back to Tybalt, and they walked together towards the hotel that was now the Amestrian headquarters. The soldiers had been stacked several to a room within the hotel instead of being forced to set up camp in the streets, and it made security a little easier to manage. Sara, being an officer, actually got a room to herself with its own bathroom with a full sized tub that she had been making shameless use of every night. It had felt so good to use a quality shampoo on her long hair and condition it and scrub every inch of her skin clean while submerged in steaming hot water. Sara had never been vain, nor considered herself particularly attached to any luxuries, but a really good bath was definitely one of her weaknesses! Her mother was the same way, so she supposed she might get the tendency from her.

The units were roomed by floors, and Sara's battalion took up two of them. It was a _very_ large hotel. Not the most luxurious in town, but it might as well be after months in tents. The rooms downstairs had been claimed as offices, with the formal dining room now lined with utilitarian tables to seat soldiers and be used as a Mess, with their cooks thrilled to have the use of the professional kitchen, and having summarily appropriated all of the supplies in the kitchen as well. After all, the building had been only _recently _abandoned when they took it over.

What was now Armstrong's office and the primary command center was a nicely appointed, wood paneled room with marble floors, a couple of busts on pedestals, and a few brightly colored paintings on the walls. It used to be a conference room to be rented out by businessmen and there was a huge table in the center of dark polished wood that matched the walls. Now, it was spread with maps and forms, and the desk in the corner piled with paperwork. Someone had hung an Amestrian flag on one wall, and things were usually bustling with activity.

Now, the only people in the room when Sara entered were Armstrong, Kane, Rehnquist, Banes, Franklin, and the other Colonels and Lt. Colonels on the mission. "Oh good, you're here, Lieutenant Colonel Elric," Armstrong nodded to her, his booming voice filling the room. "We can begin." He stood at the head of the table, though they all sat down as Sara took a seat near the other end. "I have been in contact with Central this afternoon, and I have our updated orders. Brigadier General Kane."

"Yes, General?" Kane looked up, all business.

"Your remaining units will be in charge of holding Havah and will remain here until those orders change," Armstrong said.

"Yes, Sir," Kane nodded then frantically started scribbling notes. Sara listened intently. So she would be staying in Havah for a while. There were worse assignments, though when the Aerugeans came to reclaim it – and surely they would – there was likely to be some intense fighting, with the Amestrians on the inside of the siege this time. She took notes, and noticed her fellow Battalion commanders doing the same as their units' orders were covered.

"Major General Rehnquist," Armstrong turned to the other man. "Your men will be in charge of making the push towards Bueáire when the Second Division arrives in a couple of weeks. Our units escorting the trains north will remain as the Border Guard. So we will have fresh troops to join you in the next leg of our operation."

"Does that mean we have time to give the men some actual leave, General?" Rehnquist asked.

"Yes it does," Armstrong nodded, smiling. "And I highly recommend it. They have put their spirits into this campaign and they should definitely get the rest and relaxation they deserve!"

Now that was an enthusiastic endorsement. Sara began to consider how she wanted to arrange leave for the men. They still had duties, so it was going to be on a two-day basis; one day for revelry, another for recovery. She had few notions that the men could use a chance to actually let loose a little. Behaving for this long had to be a serious strain on some of them.

"We will solidify our hold on this position," Armstrong continued with the orders. "Then with renewed energy and supplies we will move southward and hopefully meet up with the Eastern Division right on schedule."

"Is there any further news from the Eastern Division?" Sara couldn't help asking.

"Only that they are still moving forward," Armstrong replied. "They have encountered some fighting, but it is mostly within the local population and they are doing their best to avoid it. They have had a handful of injuries but, as yet, they have not entered into full combat or had any losses."

That was very good news actually. Sara relaxed a little, glad to know that her Father, Uncle, and a lot of friends and fellow alchemists were still safe. Maybe her father had picked the right command after all.

"One last thing," Armstrong finally got to the end of the rather detailed list after several minutes. "The rule about expatriation still stands. No Aerugean is to cross the border, no matter who we find."

Things broke up pretty quickly after that. Sara was glad too. It had been reasonably short for one of Armstrong's meetings, and now she had plenty to do figuring out the exact rotation for the leave schedules and writing up a detailed report of the status of her units.

She was on her way across the road to the tent-city in the park to have a few words with Tybalt – not all the offices fit in the building – when she was accosted by Cal. "Hey, Twilight," he was grinning broadly. "I take it you heard the news. Time off in Havah!"

Sara rolled her eyes. "I _was_ in the meeting where we just discussed it. When did you hear?"

"Just now from my Lieutenant Colonel," Cal smirked. "We'll have to plan to have a little fun."

"I'm sure you'll have far too much as it is without my help, Whitewater," Sara sniffed and started walking again.

Cal's smile dropped and his grey eyes became a little more pleading. "Aww, come on, Twilight! Are you going to hold the past against me forever?"

"Only the relevant parts," Sara replied shortly. "Like the ass you've been half the time on this mission." Their _personal_ past didn't even need to enter into it.

"You're not exactly sociable all the time yourself," Cal replied petulantly.

"And you're too much so," Sara countered. "Except when it comes to insulting people you don't get along with."

"Don't make this about Mustang," Cal jumped in front of her then, cutting her off. A dangerous move he seemed to realize a little too late as she glared at him, stomped on his foot, and kept moving. He caught up with her again, falling in beside her. "I apologized about that forever ago."

"That doesn't mean your manners have improved." While they all worked together surprisingly well in battle, Sara still wasn't thrilled with Kane's insistence on assigning them to closely connected units. Still, it could have been worse. He could have assigned Cal _to_ Sara's unit directly outside of alchemist work. "Have fun on your off time, Cal, but don't expect me to be available. I'm sure there are plenty of light-skirts around here just dying to show you how good a time they can give you."

"Is that really all you think I'm about?" Cal stopped walking, obviously angry.

Sara stopped and turned around to look at him. "It's all you've shown me. If there's more to you than that, you stopped showing it years ago." Then she spun on her heel and kept walking. Cal didn't follow and while Sara felt mildly bad for stomping on him, it was the truth. She tried to be friends with him, but she had matured, and he clearly hadn't.

She would have to see if she could schedule her own time to coincide with Maes' maybe, or some of her other colleagues. There were plenty of alchemists here, and regular soldiers with whom she was also friends when they were back in Central and rank meant less. Though she was tempted to spend most of her own free time tucked up in her hotel room with a bath, a good meal, and read a book on the over-stuffed bed she had luxuriated in for the past couple of weeks. Catching up on real sleep was also an appealing option.

* * *

Sara's meeting with Paul Tybalt, who had not accompanied her _into_ the meeting, did not take long. She filled him in on the details and they sketched out a plan for handling leave days and he promised to finish up the details on it. "You're the commanding officer," he smiled at her when she tried to object. "That means you should be delegating some of the menial paperwork to other perfectly capable people."

He hadn't put it to her quite like that before. Sara paused before responding. "You're right," she chuckled. "I take it this means you'd like more work?"

"It means I'd like to do whatever I can that you shouldn't have to," the Major clarified. "It's not as if you don't have plenty of other work to do."

That was certainly true. "All right. I hope you haven't felt like I haven't trusted you to do your job," Sara apologized.

"Oh no," Tybalt shook his head and smiled reassuringly. "I've worked under a few different officers, and you're not that type. I've got this." He patted the stack of half-filled out forms.

"Good," Sara grinned impishly. "Than you can handle barracks inspection this afternoon as well." She really wasn't in the mood to look under beds and through closets and make sure beds were made properly. That was a duty she would be _happy_ to hand off on occasion.

"Yes, ma'am," Tybalt chuckled and got back to work.

Sara was just coming out of the meeting when Maes joined her. She smiled, much preferring to see him than Cal. "Don't tell me," she smirked. "You heard we're getting some leave and you think we should take in the sights."

Maes stopped, blinked, then laughed and shrugged. "Sounds like a good time to me," he teased. "No actually, I found something really interesting I thought you ought to see." He held out an old sheet of paper. "I was just kind of doing the rounds and saw this old thing hanging on the wall of the local post office."

Sara took it, shooting Maes a puzzled look. What in the world could he have found that he thought it would interest her? She looked down at what turned out to be an honest-to-god wanted poster. An old one too, the print was faded. The picture was black and white, but still reasonably clear; a man and a woman in a casino. There was nothing at first to make her look twice at the image except that Maes obviously thought there was something there. She stared at the faces for several long seconds before her eyes widened. "They look like Mom and Dad, well, sort of." Her mother would never have worn that much make up and the hair was definitely the wrong shade, even in a black and white photo. She glanced at the names: Larred Allen and Winifred Shelagh. Definitely not the Elrics but they looked awfully close. The man even had Dad's auto-mail, and she would recognize that arm _anywhere. _

"Look at the date," Maes tapped the bottom of the page. Sara did. It was several years old. "Didn't your folks go out of town about then?" Maes asked with a knowing grin.

The light came on in Sara's mind. "Yeah. It was a mission, classified. That's all they ever told me about it."

"I thought you'd find that interesting," Maes chuckled. "Apparently there was quite a bit to the story."

"You should have been in investigations, Mustang," Sara smirked. "You've got a nose for it."

"State Alchemy pays better," Maes scoffed, but he looked pleased by the compliment anyway.

"I am so going to have to ask them about this when we get home," Sara chuckled. She didn't dare write her mother about it. There was a good chance the mission was still classified if her father had never told her about what must have been a very _interesting _adventure. Sara carefully tucked the flyer into her notes. "Thanks for showing me this, Maes."

"No problem, Sara," he grinned. "So, about that comment you made earlier about leave and seeing the sites… I take it someone else already made you that offer?"

Sara shook her head in minor irritation. "One guess who. I swear the man must flirt in his sleep. I wish he'd just quit."

"I could _take him out _for you," Maes offered with a conspiratorial grin.

Sara smirked. "That would be an interesting date."

Maes' face blanked a moment. "That's _not_ what I meant!" he squeaked indignantly.

Sara laughed. "I know. I just couldn't resist. Please don't risk court martial on my account. I told him to buzz off. He'd have more fun without me around anyway given his idea of a good time." She gave Maes a sizing-up look a moment later. "What _are_ your leave plans?"

Maes shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets as they started walking again back towards the building they were now calling the _Barracks Hotel._ "Sleeping in until noon and stuffing my face on the local cuisine," he grinned at her. "Though this place does actually have a few museums and parks and things. Not many, but it's not all casinos and burlesque shows." Sara twitched. The idea of the latter made her cringe. Apparently Maes saw her reaction because he laughed outright. "Don't worry. I'm not dumb enough to take dear _Miss Sara_ to a show like that in Havah." He winked at her. "If Franz didn't kill me, Fullmetal would."

"Franz wouldn't," Sara shook her head. "Dad would if I hadn't already taken care of you myself."

"I had forgotten that little detail," Maes agreed. "You'd probably do it much more stylishly anyway."

"That's what I like about you," Sara grinned. "You always know how to flatter a lady."

**January 13****th****, 1952**

There were few things more irritating than moving at a crawling bug's pace when Edward knew they could have been moving much faster if they could have kept to the road. It was even worse since the slower pace was entirely Ed's own doing. Still, he felt it was the best plan. They had already dodged another skirmish in the jungle that had nothing to do with them, and spotted one patrol of Aerugean militia on the road late one afternoon near a town.

They had not gone into town since the first incident either. Ed didn't want to risk walking right into Aerugean military or a town ready to explode with political tension. It wasn't that he didn't trust Guar; it was that he didn't trust the situation and the _other_ people along the way that they hadn't met.

Avoid open spaces, keep moving. That was all his division could really do until they got down to where the jungle ended and the land flattened out into fertile farming for the last few weeks of marching to Bueáire.

In the last couple of days, things had just gotten worse. Ed suspected that they had definitely been noticed, even if no one had yet figured out that they were Amestrian soldiers and not Aerugean government _or_ locals tromping around making trouble. They had been shot at several times, but by the time they located the enemy, they would have faded back into the trees and vanished.

Ed began to feel like they were being watched. It was that obnoxious feeling that eyes were on him, but he knew that even if he looked around he wouldn't see anybody. Paranoia perhaps, but also that keen extra sense that never seemed to be wrong. Someone was probably out there, and even if not, the awareness of others that _they_ were out here as well was enough to set it off most likely.

"I think I liked it better when we were entirely alone out here," Al admitted one evening as they sat in the command tent looking at Guar's map again. "At least, relatively speaking."

"Me too," Ed sighed. There were notations on the map now for the areas they had avoided. While he was sure those fighters would change positions, he wanted to be aware of those areas in case the information was useful later. "I just wish we knew for sure if they had figured out we're really out here and who we are."

"If they knew, we could give up on all this sneaking around," Brewster nodded. "Or at least know that it's doing some good."

"Well it _is_ doing some good," Al replied. "We don't know for sure what they know, but I think we can be fairly certain they don't know where we are exactly or they would have been able to put together something to counter act our movements by now."

Ed paused. He hadn't thought of that. A small grin crossed his face. "Good point, Al. Even our scouts haven't seen signs of any kind of large cohesive force that could even hope to put a dent in our numbers have they?" That was something at least. "I just wish the ones we saw wouldn't keep vanishing into the jungle." There was something odd about their movements too that he couldn't quite place. They seemed to move from place to place a little faster than he had expected the locals might, and he was _sure_ once that he had seen the same group of people fighting on the other side of their line at a time and place where they would have had to have crossed _through_ the Amestrian line in order to do so. But that just wasn't possible. More than likely he had mistaken two units for the same men. Still, he wasn't used to making that kind of mistake, and he wasn't quite willing to chalk it up to his lack of experience with Aerugeans. Something niggled at the back of his mind, but the idea wouldn't quite come out and tell him what it was. "How do you think they do it?" he murmured half to himself.

"Moving around?" Al picked up on his thought. "I don't know. It could just be that they know the area better than we do and the fastest ways around. It's not like we can see everything either, so it could be we missed a couple of side roads somewhere." He sounded a little skeptical, but still convinced that it _could_ be the case. It was definitely something to consider.

"Then we need to be more diligent," Ed frowned. "We should increase the scouting patrols I think. The slower we move the more likely we are to be caught."

"But moving too hastily might get us spotted too," Brewster added, and Ed nodded. The man was right.

"So we keep the pace." Ed looked at the map, with the winding Ama running nearly down the center of it all the way down to Bueáire, which sat just a little upriver from the ocean in the Southern central part of Aerugo, surrounded by low fertile plains; the heavy farming region of the country. There was still tree cover, but it was shorter and less dense. Easier to move through when they got that far down river.

The trick now was _getting _down that far.


	9. Chapter 9

**January 28****th****, 1952**

Sara tapped her pen irritably against the desk in the small conference room downstairs she was using as a meeting room for the alchemists. While she was no longer technically in charge of the alchemist Special Forces group, she and Kane had felt it prudent to have a few plans at the ready in case they were ever needed, whether it was for humanitarian aide – which they had already done some of since arriving – or for when violence broke out. They had individually quashed several small riots and fights around town the last few weeks, often just by being in the right place at the right time. Now, while they had left the local police in place, the alchemists were also recognized as keepers of the peace and anyone wearing the watch chain was usually left alone. Sara knew the local alchemists probably didn't want to mess with Amestris' State trained alchemists after the display of abilities used in taking the city in the first place.

She glanced up at the clock. Where the heck were Mustang and Fischer? It worried her more that it was those two specifically who were missing. The rest of the alchemists had already come, talked to her, and gone. Well, she might as well go find them. Sara left the room and went hunting.

Neither of them were in their rooms. In fact, when she questioned some of the men in their units, she was assured that they weren't anywhere in the building. Mildly concerned, and more than a little annoyed, Sara headed outside toward Tent City. She poked her head into Banes' and Franklins' office tents, but found out that they hadn't seen the two alchemists either and had been under the impression they were in Sara's meeting.

"I wish," Sara sighed and headed out again. She really wanted to know where the boys had gone now. They weren't with the Quartermasters, they hadn't been in the Mess, and they certainly weren't out on patrol.

She finally spotted Maes standing outside of the hospital tent. Other than requisitioning local supplies, the Amestrians had tried to leave the locals alone so, other than the seriously injured which had been moved indoors, most of their basic medical needs were still tended to in the usual fashion. "What are you doing out here?" Sara asked, scowling as she walked up.

Maes jerked upright to salute before he noticed which officer was addressing him. He chuckled and shrugged. "Waiting on Whitewater actually."

"Oh?" Sara's scowl turned into more of a frown. "What's wrong with him?"

"We were on the way to the meeting when he had a desperate need to use the facilities." Maes looked far too smug. "A _burning_ need you could say."

_Oooooh._ Sara felt her eyes widen momentarily in comprehension. "You mean…"

Maes's grin became downright wicked. "Yeah, I do. I had to listen to the most pitiful sounds and I decided to be mildly merciful and made him come over here. No man should be that pathetic."

"Serves him right," Sara grinned back.

"Hey how about a little respect for the wounded," Cal winced as he came out of the tent, limping slightly with one hand on the back of his hip. "That's inhuman."

"A shot in the ass seems an equivalent exchange for not being more careful," Sara smirked, crossing her arms under her breasts. "You _were_ warned about the local girls weren't you?"

Cal glared at her, but she could see his heart wasn't really in it. "Are you done yet? I'd really like to go back to my room and cry… in as manly a manner as possible of course."

"Of course." Sara had to admit she found the situation amusing, but she was also glad it wasn't something more serious. "There are so many masculine ways to whimper. I'll have a word with your commanding officer, but consider yourself confined to quarters until you're fit for duty."

"Sure thing, Twilight," Cal replied with surprising meekness. He looked highly embarrassed as he glanced over at Maes. "I don't suppose you'd care to come along and run interference? I'd really rather not have to explain this to the Brass by getting caught of guard."

"Sure, but you owe me," Maes laughed, clapping Cal on the shoulder. "You owe me big time."

Sara watched them go. As much pain as she knew Cal had to be in, she felt little sympathy. His carelessness had given him something to think about now, and she hoped he learned his lesson.

**February 5****th****, 1952**

The Aerugeans knew the Amestrians were there. It hadn't taken long for evidence of that to materialize in front of them one day in the form of an actual Aerugean regiment that seemed to come out of nowhere in the trees. The battle had been short, fierce, and embarrassing. The Amestrians had lost dozens of men and had several dozen more wounded. Ed's desk that night was covered in reports. The scouts had no idea how they had failed to miss an entire regiment, and there was a report listing the dead, and several more reports on the living wounded.

The same thing happened a couple of days later, though that time the Amestrians had been on the alert and dropped immediately into battle formation, firing back. The skirmish had lasted only minutes, killed and wounded several, and then their enemy had simply vanished again. How the hell were they _doing _that? Not Ed, nor Al, nor Brewster or any of their Aerugean-blooded soldiers knew how they were doing it. At least knowing that the enemy was tracking them, Ed no longer felt any compunction on holding back with the alchemists. They build up walls around the camps at night and used alchemy to defend against their enemies in combat.

Every couple of days now they got attacked. Or rather, picked at. The enemy never sat still long enough for a full engagement. Ed wasn't looking forward to the next report back to Central. Their peaceful trip through the jungle was definitely over. They had reached the real war, and it was ugly. He only hoped they had some suggestions for how to deal with an enemy that could somehow completely vanish into the terrain seemingly without a trace.

"We should contact Central sooner," Brewster argued at one point over a late dinner in the command tent.

Ed shook his head vehemently. "We maintain radio silence as much as possible other than necessary communications. We have to try and disappear. If the enemy can do it, so can we, and if anyone else pinpoints our exact location we're going to find ourselves in the fire. Besides," he sighed, "It's not like anyone's going to be sending us any help."

It was a sobering thought. There would be no back up on this mission. If they all died then they were lost. But Ed had known that when he took the assignment and that was part of why he had taken it. Not because he liked the idea of wandering around in the jungle without support if things went to hell, but because he had felt he had the best chance of helping keep them _alive. _

Right now, he was trying very hard not to doubt that opinion. Ed didn't think it was ego that had made him come out here, but Central and his original decision seemed a very long time ago. In the end, he decided, it no longer mattered. He was out here now, and that meant they needed to make the best of the given situation.

"Our pace has slowed even more," Al pointed out somberly. "But we can't leave behind the wounded."

"It's bad enough we've had to leave the bodies of the dead instead of taking them home," Brewster nodded, frowning.

"At least they've been buried," Al replied. "And when this is all over, we can always come back and get them and ship them home for a real burial." It sounded a little like he was trying to console himself, but Ed knew it bothered Al that folks back home would not have the opportunity to bury their lost loved ones. Ed had been the one to collect the letters from the officers to the families of the dead, and kept them safe in a waterproof pack on one of the llamas. He would see them mailed once they met back up with the Northern Divisions and had access to the military mail couriers.

"Assuming no one messes with them before then," Brewster replied, unusually dour this evening. Of course, some of his men had taken the brunt of today's attack. He stood up and offered a weak smile. "Sorry for being the downer this evening. I think I'm going to turn in and try and get some sleep."

When he was gone, Ed leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. "I wish we had a better strategy," he admitted to Al. "Or at least, we knew that the one we have is a good one or not. I mean, it seems sound doesn't it?"

"Sure it does," Al nodded. "But we're not used to dealing with these kinds of tactics. We have to be creative and adapt. Isn't that why_ we're_ here in the first place?" He smiled encouragingly despite the fact that Ed could tell his brother was tired and worried.

Ed chuckled tiredly and drained his canteen. He was getting tired of water. Canteens, rain, the Ama River…everything out here was water. Al was right. That was why the two brothers were out here in the first place. Because no one in Amestris was good at fighting in this kind of situation and they needed someone who could figure it out. "Some days genius just doesn't pay does it?" he quipped.

Al chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I don't know, I think we get paid pretty well."

"Active duty does pay better than home," he admitted. Ed set down the canteen, wincing as his shoulder twinged. That was what he really hated about the ongoing wet. It made his joints ache, especially around his auto-mail ports. He stretched the arm, then looked it over, inspecting it for any signs of rust. It was nearly impossible to make something Winry had made actually _rust_, but most of her auto-mail didn't get used in this environment regularly. He _had _found several items in his auto-mail kit however that he knew he hadn't packed himself. There was only one person who would have thought of those little details. "That extra pay is good. I'm going to need to get this thing adjusted properly when I get home." It wasn't that the mechanic they had assigned to the Division wasn't good, but well, he just wasn't _Winry._

"You're lucky you haven't had anything really damaged," Al said, falling quiet again as he finished the last of his dinner. Ed wasn't inclined to bother him. "Ed," He spoke up again after a couple of minutes. "Doesn't it seem like we should be trying to _stop_ these fights we're going around? I mean, shouldn't we be helping these people resolve their differences?"

"What do you mean, Al?" Ed hadn't even thought about it. In a moment though, he felt guilty as he realized just what his brother was getting at.

"It used to be if we went somewhere and there was a problem we tried to solve it," Al confirmed Ed's suspicions. "But right now we're just going right on past. We're even avoiding them."

"What good _can_ we do aside from what we're doing, Al?" Ed asked. "If we walked into a hostile town and said we were here to help, they'd never believe us. We're as much the enemy as they see each other as." It hurt to admit it, but there it was. "If it was just you and me coming in here as alchemists, no political ties, sure maybe we could get involved, but right now I think the best thing we can do is get our asses down to Bueáire and deal with the government. If we can resolve the conflict at the top, things should eventually settle down at the local level again too." At least, that was what Ed hoped. Leave it to Al to cut right into the heart of things and complicate their lives at the same time.

"I think I like dealing with local politics better than international politics." Al sat back. "I hope you're right."

"Me too," Ed sighed. If he wasn't, then their entire mission would be for nothing, and he just couldn't accept that possibility.

**February 6th, 1952**

The attack came in the middle of the night. Edward was dreaming about hot apple pie when the first shouts of warning woke him. A second later the warning blast of a bugle calling the alert brought him up off his cot and out the door, hopping into his boots as he went. Al was right behind him.

Ed grabbed the first Lieutenant Colonel who ran past him by the shoulder. "Report! What's going on?"

"Enemy attacking from the north ridge, General," the man stopped cold and blurted. "They're firing from above." The ridge didn't really allow them to charge into the camp thank goodness, but it also made it difficult to fight back in the dark. In daylight Ed would have immediately mounted a counter-offensive that wrapped around, but sending men charging off in the dark in unfamiliar territory without knowing the size of the enemy was idiotic at best, disaster at worst.

"Tell first and second companies to form up, get everyone else out of range," Ed barked the order. "Alchemists are the exception. I want every one of them on that ridge now!"

"Yes, Sir," the man saluted and dashed off into the dark.

It wasn't a difficult plan, but in the late hour, with almost no firelight and the cloud cover so thick there wasn't a moonbeam to be had, things took longer than Ed liked. He headed for the combat zone at top speed, arriving only a few minutes later to find that the companies had formed up, but were having little effect in discouraging their attackers. The other men were still getting out of the way, and a lot of tents had holes in them. As he arrived, a grenade hit one of the supply tents which went up like a fireworks display.

Ed dove to the ground to avoid flying debris. He felt something slam into his right arm with a clank and a thunk and something hot whiz past his ears. Half the line did the same, and their firing slowed. The enemy redoubled their efforts and more men fell.

"Screw this!" Ed clapped his hands together and smacked them into the dirt. In moments the earth rippled away from his hands, the ripples growing into giant waves as he simply sent the ground surging out towards the enemy, knocking trees over as the land _flipped_ under the attacking soldiers like a blanket being yanked from underneath a table full of dishes. Only Ed didn't care if these _dishes _hit the floor.

The enemy firing stopped all at once, replaced by shouts and cries, groans of injured men, and then the sounds of retreat. Ed blinked several times as his eyes readjusted to the dark. He saw several alchemists putting out the fire. It was much faster than an old fashioned bucket line. Getting back to his feet he nearly fell over as his auto-mail arm gave a jerk when he put weight on it. He stood and tried moving it. There was a huge dent across the forearm and elbow that seemed to be interfering with the topmost synthetic muscles.

"Ed, are you all right?" Al asked as he came over from supervising putting out the fire.

"Me?" Ed shrugged. "Sure. Though I'm going to have to get this looked at tonight," he sighed, holding up his arm so Al could see the damage. "I don't want to leave it until morning."

As it was, it was past dawn before the mess was cleaned up and all the injured were seen to and the dead taken care of. By the time Ed finished writing up his part of the necessary reports and made it over to the auto-mail mechanic's tent, which was right beside the medical tent, the sun was peeking through the trees with inappropriate cheerfulness and Ed hadn't managed so much as a bite of breakfast.

"Looks like a pretty solid hit," the auto-mail mechanic, a Major Leitner, shrugged. "Though you don't seem to mind it as much as some. Does this happen a lot, General?"

"Too often," Ed smirked. "If I take it home like this my wife will kill me."

"I'd imagine so," the man chuckled in response. "I hear she's quite the perfectionist. It's clear from the quality of this piece. Completely one of a kind design isn't it?"

"That it is," Ed nodded. "I've never had anything else, save for a couple of years a long time back." The prosthetics he'd used on the other side of the Gate for two years that his father had made had been pretty good, but not nearly as good as auto-mail.

"How long has she been making your auto-mail?"

"Since I was eleven," Ed replied. "My first arm was the first piece she ever designed completely." He hadn't even appreciated then how much that meant until it had been destroyed. Now he felt a little guilty about how many times her work had been destroyed.

The man whistled. "That's a long time. I mean…sorry sir," he flushed just a little. "I didn't mean to imply anything about your age, General."

Ed chuckled. "No offense taken." He waited patiently as the man removed the cover and part of the elbow and examined the inner workings.

"I think the only real damage is to these pieces," Leitner gestured to the parts he had removed. "Let me bang the dents out of them and we'll see if that fixes the problem."

"Sounds good," Ed replied. With Al and Brewster out handling things, he wasn't needed immediately. They would be moving out a couple of hours late this morning, but only a couple. They couldn't afford to stay in the same position for a second night, though Ed hoped his little display of force had given whoever was out there – locals or army alike – second thoughts about messing with them. "How long do you think that will take?"

"Just a few minutes," the mechanic grinned, laying the pieces out on the table and pulling out a shaping hammer. "It may not be as pretty as it was, but it'll do the trick. I have to say, Sir, you're one of the most relaxed guys I've had in here."

"Tell my brother that," Ed laughed. "I've gotten used to the maintenance after forty-on…no wait, forty-two years." He stopped laughing. What was the date? Yeah, his birthday had been three days ago and he had completely missed it. Well, sort of. He thought he remembered Al wishing him a happy birthday in the morning as they got ready to go, but it hadn't really sunk in; another year gone, another birthday, another anniversary. And here he was in another war. It was interesting how the world marked time.

"I guess that would make the difference," Leitner grinned, apparently not noticing Ed's momentary lack of attention. "Most of the guys I see haven't had auto-mail nearly that long."

"Not surprising," Ed replied, though he was only half listening now. He had to force himself from wondering too much what was going on at home. What was he missing as he sat out here, waiting for dents to be knocked out of his arm?

**February 11****th****, 1952**

"Mom says she's got a business trip to Rush Valley planned, and that Ethan's bored in all his classes at school but that's because he's months ahead on the material," Sara chuckled as she shared the details of her latest letters from home with Maes. "He's spending all his free time at the Shop and still helping out over at the hospital on top of classes." She sat cross-legged on her bed, the letters stacked in her lap.

"Your little brother is crazy," Maes chuckled. He was sprawled in the one over-stuffed chair in the room. They were both off duty tonight and it was pretty late. "Has he written you himself?"

"A couple of times," Sara nodded. "He mostly says the same thing, in brief, and then goes off babbling about his alchemical theories and asking me for suggestions." She really enjoyed those letters actually. Thinking about the questions Ethan posed was a great distraction from what was going on around them, and it made an excellent way to fall asleep at night. "What does your Mom say?" They swapped gossip from home whenever they got news. At least the stuff that wasn't private or personal.

"She says that Dad's as stubborn as always," Maes smirked. "But he's in his element _advising_ on the War Council. He's also doing a lecture series over at the University about the Ishbal Rebellion that's absolutely packed thanks to the war."

"I bet he enjoys that," Sara smiled.

"Anything where he's the center of attention and people hang on his every word makes Dad happy," Maes replied, sipping from a bottle of orange soda pop he had scrounged from somewhere. He'd gotten one for each of them.

"I can see why," Sara chuckled, drinking her soda. "So they're doing okay."

"Oh yeah. Mom says she hasn't seen Dad this excited about something in a while." There was relief in his voice, and Sara could understand why. His father had not retired of his own preference, even if he had finally made the decision to do so, and he'd had a rough couple of months coming out of the depression he had fallen into around the time of Colonel Havoc's death.

"I'm glad he's doing all right," Sara replied. She was glad her Mom and Ethan were all right as well. They sounded busy with life as usual. There had been a few lines about Aldon and Cassie and Coran too, though since they were down in Resembool there was only so much that could be said, but they were stories passed on from Aldon who was perfectly happy to brag about his growing son.

"So… what about Franz?" Maes asked, grinning cheekily enough Sara knew he wasn't expecting to get much out of her in that regard even though he knew that she had gotten several letters from him.

"He writes," Sara replied evasively. It wasn't that there was anything crass or inappropriate in Franz's letters. Quite the opposite; they were practically poetry. He couldn't say much about what was going on at work, but she wouldn't have expected that in an open communication that could be intercepted by the enemy. He did talk about other things going on, and how much he missed her, and responded to her questions and comments on previous letters as he got hers.

"You're no fun," Maes just shrugged. "You actually get interesting letters from home."

Sara knew what he really meant. Maes only got letters from his mother. Sara had someone waiting for her to come back who wasn't family. Maes, of his own choosing, hadn't been dating much for a while, but he was obviously regretting not having a girlfriend back home waiting for him. "I'd write you, but I'm here," she teased lightly, hoping to lift his spirits. "Dear Maes, did you remember to pack clean underwear? I hope you haven't forgotten how to do real alchemy. Look out for the girls in Havah, I hear they're dangerous."

She ducked as he snagged a throw pillow and lobbed it in her direction. Maes was laughing though. "You're terrible, Elric."

"I try," she giggled, tossing the pillow back his direction. Maes had just raised his arm and caught it, prepared to throw again when there was a sudden pounding on the door.

"Enter," Sara called out, and a red-faced Second Lieutenant came in and snapped to attention.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Lieutenant Colonel," he panted. "Brigadier General Kane wants you in the command center _immediately_."

"How immediately?" Sara asked even as she was getting up. She wasn't in uniform at the moment, but her actual pajamas. At least it was a full set with pants and shirt top instead of a nightgown!

"General Kane is in his shorts ma'am, if that tells you anything," the man quipped, then flushed.

"Tell him I'll be there right behind you," Sara ordered, grabbing for socks and boots. It would look stupid with the pale blue pajamas, but she didn't really care.

"Guess I should come too," Maes got to his feet as the Lieutenant bolted back out the door. "This sounds serious."

It turned out to be deadly serious. In various stages of sleepwear – though all decent – the command staff of the Northern forces had crowded into the command center and aides were running in and out. Someone had already put a pot of coffee on because cups were being filled.

"What's going on?" Sara asked without bothering with the formalities.

Kane looked strained; Armstrong too busy to actually say anything. "Aerugo has mounted a counter offensive against us," Kane announced to her, Maes, and the several other officers who had come in behind her or were standing around. "I don't know how we missed them, but we just got a report in from Marnot. There's an entire _Division _sitting on the roads and rails about a day south of them and they're attacking both north and south of that position."

"They're attacking the towns?" Banes asked from somewhere to Sara's left.

"Not yet. So far they're only engaging our troops," Kane replied sounding irritated. Obviously about the attack in general; it was a good thing that the Aerugeans weren't taking this out on their own people. "But this leaves us completely cut off from the border."

"With only half of our reinforcements," Rehnquist nodded as he came over, scowling deeply. "Damned terrain hides anything."

"Well if they moved this effectively, at least that implies that our other Division is doing the same right?" Maes suggested.

"Probably," Kane nodded without appearing mollified. "We've wired word up to Central and Armstrong's on the phone with Command right now working out a counter attack."

"Can we _make_ the push to Bueáire without the rest of the Second Division?" Sara asked. She couldn't imagine how, but she wasn't entirely certain how many men were absolutely necessary to pull off that part of the strategy.

"It would be ugly," Kane sighed. There was a mug of coffee going cold beside him, but he seemed not to have noticed it. "And useless if we can't get our road _home_ opened again. Right now, we're completely cut off from any outside resupply and reinforcement. I'll bet my State License the Aerugeans have another force marching for Havah from the South as we speak."

"We've already sent scouts farther a field in that direction," Rehnquist drank from his coffee cup and tapped his finger down on the map. "They've been told not to go further than the town of Rios. It's about three days from here, but if they can't get information from there and we can't get better intelligence out of Bueáire we may be screwed anyway as far as getting notice. From here on out we should be on alert and ready for combat at a moment's notice. When they come here, we'll be the ones under siege and _they_ have the resources and supply mechanism to make us wait it out."

The room went quiet as Armstrong hung up the phone, ending his talk with Central. He turned around, his expression grim. "We have a new plan," he spoke somberly, his usual enthusiasm diminished. "I have spoken with President Breda, and Generals Brahm and Mustang. The remaining half of the Second Division at the border will be sending most of their men South to attack the Aerugean Division directly. The plan is to catch them on two fronts and take them apart from both directions at the same time."

"There's not enough men at the second out-posting for that," Franklin objected.

"I am aware of that," Armstrong scowled. "General Rehnquist," he turned to the man. "You will take half of the First Division back northward and engage the enemy. We _must_ reopen the lines. Brigadier General Varner," he looked up and Sara turned her head to see the man who had come down in command of the first half of the Second Division standing not too far to her right. "Your men will remain here with Kane's and support holding Havah. You will engage with any force that attacks this city and defeat them."

"Understood, General Armstrong, Sir," Varner saluted sharply, his seriousness at odds with his lavender pajamas.

Armstrong continued without hesitation. "Kane. Command of the city is yours. I will be going back North with Rehnquist for the time being. We will not be making any push for Bueáire until this new threat is dealt with. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Sir," Kane replied.

"Excellent." The orders over, Armstrong seemed to relax just slightly. Sara wondered how much sleep the mountain of a man had lost lately. He always seemed to have more energy even than her father, but just for a moment he looked old and tired. That moment did not last long though as he smiled. "I have every confidence in all of you and am proud to have been trusted with this command. Let's make everyone at home proud."

The expected pep speech was blessedly brief, and then the general chaos returned, though most of the officers were finally leaving.

"I'm going to pretend I can sleep," Maes waved as he headed out of the room.

"Good luck with that," Sara sighed, claiming a cup of coffee for herself. She, for one, was too wired to sleep now anyway! Her mind was already caught up in all the things she needed to do tomorrow morning that, given the new situation, would have been better off done yesterday. As she pondered, her eyes drifted to her superior officer. The Lieutenant had said Kane was wearing his shorts, but he hadn't said exactly what was _on_ them.

"Do you have a question, Twilight?" Kane eyed Sara when she hesitated before turning to go.

Sara tried not to smirk as she avoided meeting anything but his eyes. "Duckies, Sir?"

Kane's eyes dropped momentarily as he realized she was referring to the yellow creatures that patterned his dark blue shorts. The t-shirt was the same blue, but plain. "Do you have a problem with _duckies_, Lieutenant Colonel?"

"No Sir," Sara replied promptly.

"Good. Dismissed."


	10. Chapter 10

**February 16****th****, 1952**

It was only after strenuous objection on his part that Edward agreed that they needed to make another stop in an actual town. They were running low on supplies thanks to the slow pace, and the men needed a break. There had been a reprieve after the attack where Ed had attacked them with half of their own jungle, and only a couple of skirmishes since then, so it seemed safe enough.

As such, Ed also insisted on being the one to approach the town. It was goodly sized, by far the biggest they had hit yet. In truth, it would have probably accommodated the entire Division within the walls with only some mild crowding, but Ed wasn't sure he trusted that option. He would much rather keep the men outside in their camps. What he wanted to assure was that this would be another beneficial stop, instead of getting them shot at.

So while he had back up waiting in the woods – including Alphonse, Matthias Wood, and several of their sharp shooters with their rifles aimed at the walls – Ed sauntered up the road in full uniform, all by himself.

::Halt.:: The expected call came from the guard standing on the wall. ::Who are you and what is your business here?::

::I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist and the guy you've been shooting at for weeks if this is where all the backwoods shooting is coming from,:: Ed replied, grinning up at the man with his hands folded easily behind his back, fingers interlocked. ::I'd like to talk to whoever's in charge.::

That seemed to throw the guard for a moment, he motioned to someone else, and then apparently a messenger was sent. It was nearly fifteen minutes before someone in a suit appeared on top of the wall. ::You are Amestrian,:: the middle aged woman scowled. ::What are you doing here?::

::Well you see,:: Ed kept smiling, ::I have this army out here, as I'm sure you've noticed by now. I figured it wouldn't be polite for us to come through the area without at least saying hello.::

::I don't find you at all amusing,:: the woman replied. She reminded Ed a little of Olivia Armstrong. Not exactly the type of personality he was looking forward to dealing with out here. ::Are you here to invade?::

::I'm _here_ to ask your permission to camp nearby for a couple of days and rest, hopefully without getting shot at,:: Ed continued with his candid approach. It had obviously caught them off guard and he liked it that way. That was the whole point. ::As for our real business, that lies with the government in Bueáire. We have no interest in causing trouble for your citizens.::

::Why should I take your word on that?::

This one was smart. Ed pulled the watch out of his pocket and held it up where it glistened in the sun. ::As I told your guard, I'm an alchemist. As such I take my oath to help people more seriously than any lines on a map. Our argument with your government lies in their refusing to allow our own people to cross the border and come home. _My_ problem with them is with how they seem to be treating everyone, but then I have only what I have heard to go on. If someone would care to enlighten me further….:: He left that last thought hanging and shrugged, putting the watch back in his pocket. ::If you refuse my request, we will simply continue on our way.::

Al and Brewster had both told him this idea was crazy. There were other ways to go about getting entrance to the city and proper forms of negotiation and protocol. Of course, they didn't really like his current plan of keeping to the woods and pushing hard either, but it was all they had. They were starting to reach areas with more open land though, and Ed could tell that Al wanted to move them out of the jungles from his suggestions, even though he hadn't made any outright declaration.

Ed waited patiently while they woman thought it over. ::I will need to speak with the City Council,:: she replied finally. ::You will wait here.::

::Yes ma'am,:: Ed replied, returning to his previous position, fingers interlaced behind his back, standing at ease. They kept him waiting for over an hour, with the guards on the walls looking ever more nervous as they watched him. Perhaps it was the fact that he had the gall to just stride right up to the walls like that, when they obviously kept the gates closed for security reasons around here lately, and request entry for him and at least part of a foreign military.

Ed wondered how his back up was faring and hoped they weren't too bored, or too nervous. It might be unorthodox, but this was how Ed preferred to do things, and if he was in command than damn it he was going to do things_ his_ way from time to time.

Finally, the woman and a couple of other well dressed locals appeared on the wall. ::You may camp nearby,:: she said without preamble. ::But you must be at least five miles away from the walls. No more than two thousand of your men may enter the city at a time, and they must come unarmed. You will not stay more than four days.::

::Agreed,:: Ed replied without hesitation. ::Thank you, ma'am. May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of negotiations?::

::I am the Mayor of Leraro, Margite Talacan,:: she replied shortly. ::I will not guarantee the safety of your men any more than I can guarantee the safety of our own people, General Elric. These are difficult times and many of the people in this city approve of what the government is doing. You are being tolerated, not welcomed.::

::Understood,:: Ed nodded respectfully up at her. ::Thank you, Mayor Talacan. I will make sure my men understand the rules and follow them.:: He turned then, and walked away, aware that the guards still had their guns trained on his back. He had too much experience not to feel that itching feeling between his shoulder blades.

He relaxed only after he walked around the bend in the road and was out of sight of the wall. Less than a minute later Al and the rest of the team materialized out of the jungle. "So," Ed grinned at Al. "Who's crazy now?"

"You're still crazy," Al shook his head. "But crazy like a fox. Let's go tell Brewster so we can see about getting resupplied."

**February 20****th****, 1952**

The way they worked out the schedule, almost all of the soldiers were able to get a day of leave time in Leraro. The first two days were spent re-supplying, and Ed was glad to find that as they got closer to Bueáire the more accepted Amestrian sens were.

::I trade with merchants who come from the Capitol. They are happy to do exchange for local currency,:: one of the grocers told them as they purchased enough canned and dry goods to feed the army for another month, effectively cleaning out his entire back stock. Not that the man was complaining!

They restocked food, water, medical supplies, and anything else they could get a hold of that they might need. Ed was highly suspicious a few bottles of local liquors and cartons of cigarettes were ferreted away by the men, but he didn't harp too much on it. After what they had been through lately, he couldn't entirely blame them. They had been out here for four months now.

Not everyone took a day of leave, but because of the time restrictions, Ed had asked for volunteers to stay and had gotten enough. With wounded and losses, they were down five hundred men so far, which left only fifteen hundred who needed to stay behind. Most of the medical team declined the option of spending a lot of time in town, and there were a lot of soldiers who didn't trust the locals enough to brave it.

Edward and Alphonse took their leave together on the last day before they left. Brewster had taken his the day before, when all that was really left was for everyone to spend a couple of days resting, repairing their kits as needed, and tending to sore-footed pack animals. He had recommended a couple of local restaurants and some of the local sights that he had found particularly beautiful.

To Ed's surprise it really was a beautiful city. Like the towns they had passed through, it was full of color. A lot of the buildings were plaster and straw, though some were wooden or clay brick. Plaster and clay were almost always colored in some way, and the shutters and doorways painted in bright colors, usually light blues and yellows or brilliant reds. It was finding a garden of flowers in the middle of the darkest tangles of a forest.

Old ruins sat on one rock face that ran along the western edge of the town, topped with more jungle. Ed could not read the carvings, but they were fascinating to look at anyway. "Do you know anything about them?" he asked Al, who seemed to know something about everything these days.

"Their ancestors built this temple over two thousand years ago," Al nodded, eyes wide in awe as he took in everything around them. "If I remember the symbols correctly, this one honors a sun god of some kind."

"Gods," Ed scoffed, though only half-heartedly. "Why doesn't anyone ever build monuments to more important things?"

"Like what, Ed?" Al smiled at him knowingly. "The people: those are government buildings. History: we have museums. Knowledge: we have libraries and universities."

"You always know everything don't you?" Ed mock-glared at his brother.

"You just don't ask the right questions," Al chuckled.

They wandered the streets for most of the day, admiring the huge ancient fountains in which children splashed, and in others some of the women did their laundry. Ed noticed that these were never the same fountains. There was also one from which only animals drank. Al paused there for several minutes to stroke some of the cats, who immediately swarmed him.

They ate lunch at one of the cafés, enjoying far too much of the local cuisine and then experienced the charming local custom they had recently discovered that was, essentially, a city wide afternoon nap.

"We should institute this in Central," Ed laughed as they stretched out on the grass on a small hill in the shade of a tree in one of the parks. Several of the locals were doing the same, so they were pretty sure that it was legal. Without their uniform jackets on, while they were still obviously foreigners, they didn't attract any more attention than any of the other soldiers. "Maybe everyone would stop being so asinine about everything."

"That's a nice idea," Al agreed sleepily. A colorful butterfly with brilliant violet iridescent wings fluttered across the grass and settled on top of Al's nose and he held still, obviously trying not to scare it away. After a minute, the butterfly flitted off, landing a couple of yards away on a small white flower. "I really wish we were just here on vacation. Everything is so beautiful here. It doesn't even feel like winter."

"The people are nice too," Ed agreed thoughtfully. "Despite the Mayor's warning things have been awfully peaceful. It bugs me."

"Anytime things are going well it bugs you," Al chuckled, closing his eyes and folding his hands on his chest. "I'd think you'd be reassured by all the suspicious looks we've gotten all day."

"I am," Ed admitted. "I just expected more violence. I guess they don't want us breaking our word anymore than we want them breaking theirs."

"Peace is easier than war," Al replied proverbially.

"Tell that to the government," Ed shrugged as he let himself drift into a light nap.

The afternoon was spent doing something that Ed hadn't done in a long while; shopping. He knew they couldn't take much with them, but he had always packed light, and he had room in his packs for a couple of things. Besides, if he hadn't agreed to wander the market while Al looked for something to take home to the girls, he would have been pretty bored!

They combed through all sorts of shops, and Ed did once or twice find himself wishing he dared laden down his pack llama with a few things he really didn't need. Copies of old Aerugean weaponry definitely caught his attention. He did cave and pick up the only book he found on alchemy in the local language that wasn't a translation of _Basics of Alchemy_, of which he saw four copies. He knew he and Ethan would have fun pouring over it at some point. He also picked up a cookbook – how could he resist? Unsurprisingly, Al picked up a couple of books on the local and regional history of Aerugo.

After the book stores, they finally moved on to the other shops and the real reason Al had dragged Ed into the main shopping part of town. Ed waited patiently and gave any requested commentary in regards to a variety of items, all of which he was sure Elicia would appreciate because they came from Al, or Alyse would because they were pretty and would have cost a fortune on the racks in Central after import tariffs and taxes. "You could always find _them_ a cookbook," Ed finally teased when he got bored of looking at items that were made of filmy fabrics or lined in lace.

"I don't think so," was Al's only reply to that comment. He finally settled on a really nice silk fan for Alyse, in the deep red so popular in this part of the world and edged in black lace. It was hand made by the old woman who ran the little shop who seemed delighted to have a _handsome young man_ from so far away admiring her work. Ed managed not to roll his eyes. They _were_ very nice, and the fan folded up, making it very easy to store and carry with them without it getting damaged.

Shopping for Elicia took longer, but Al finally settled on a necklace made of locally mined silver and set with several small fire opals. The jeweler was as impressed with Al's knowledge of the stones and silver quality as the old woman had enjoyed his compliments. Of course, Ed thought, Al was an alchemist. If he didn't know rocks and minerals he would have been in big trouble. Still he didn't say anything as Al finished purchasing the item in question.

"Great, then we're done," Ed grinned as he turned and headed on down the row of outdoor shops. He was eager to get on to something more interesting.

"What about Winry?" Al asked, sounding more than a little confused.

Ed nearly tripped over his own feet, but kept walking. He couldn't think of a good quip in response, and he knew if he opened his mouth the wrong thing would probably come out. It was the question that he had been trying to avoid for months. What _about_ Winry? In all honesty, he had tried to think about her as little as possible of late. Every time he did he got confused.

"Edward!" He heard Al come up and his brother quickly locked step with him. Ed didn't have to turn his head. He could see Al's concerned expression in his peripheral vision. "Ed, what's wrong?"

No, Al had the scent now. He knew something was wrong. Or at least he suspected, which meant that he wasn't going to give up until Ed came clean or came up with a good lie. He wasn't inclined to do the latter. Al was one of the people he just couldn't lie to. Not convincingly anyway. "Fine," Ed murmured and took a side street back towards one of the small parks they had passed earlier. It was a little more off the beaten track and not crowded. Ed paused by the small pond and looked down. Below, dozens of small fish in a variety of shapes and startlingly bright tropical colors swam just below the surface in the dark water.

Al stood next to him for several seconds, reflected beside him, waiting for Ed to speak. When he didn't, Al's expression grew more worried. "Well?"

"I'm not really sure what to say," Ed admitted with a shrug. "The only answer I have lately is _I don't know._"

"What do you mean?" His brother asked quietly. "Did something happen that I don't know about?"

"That's the problem," Ed looked up at Al instead of at his reflection in the water. "I _don't_ know. Before we left, well, she was mad as hell at me for taking this command in the first place."

"You knew she would be," Al pointed out. "She worries about you."

"Yeah well," Ed tried to hold himself together, "Worried isn't what I would have called her."

"Then what?"

Ed didn't want to say _I don't know _again. "Distant," he offered up the first word that made sense. "I know she was mad, but even before that she was in kind of an odd mood. She didn't want me…"

"Want you what?" Al was clearly getting a little exasperated with his hesitance.

"To touch her all right," Ed glowered at his brother and averted his gaze again sharply. "She just, wasn't ever in the mood or… something. That's what she said anyway. I mean, I don't think I was being pushy but even when we weren't arguing about something stupid she didn't really want to do anything, you know…" Out in the public air, he couldn't bring himself to say the last little bit aloud. He told himself it was just because there were small children playing nearby. Even if they didn't understand Amestrian, the excuse made him feel better.

"Not at all before we left?" Al sounded startled.

"Not even the last night before we left," Ed admitted, the truth making him feel even more miserable. "I figured that even if she was mad at me this would be all right, like it always is. But I'm beginning to think maybe I upset her more than I thought."

"Is this why you haven't been doing the radio reports back home?" Al asked.

Ed shrugged. "Part of it. It's not that I don't want to talk to Winry. Though I still think blurting feelings out over radio to the guys at the office is dumb," he smirked wryly sideways at his brother. "I guess I'm just afraid of not getting anything back."

Al sighed, and shifted his feet, clear signs that this disturbed him too. "It's probably just the stress," he suggested after a minute. "I mean, like you said, you really pissed her off. She has a right to be mad, but I'll bet she's regretting the things she didn't say and do as much as you are. Everything will be okay once you get the chance to sit down and talk things over."

That was how it always worked. Winry was always mad at him for going off, and gave him an earful when he got home, but then things went back to normal after a while. What that normal _was_ had changed over the years, but there were some things he could always count on, and Winry was as consistent as the moon when it came to certain things. At least until now. "That doesn't explain her mood before then."

"That I don't know," Al admitted, his expression falling again as he considered the options. "You were fine this summer. At least, given how all over each other you two were on vacation, I'd assume everything was fine then," he grinned playfully at that last.

"Yeah, it was," Ed smiled a little, but it was half-hearted. Last summer everything had seemed like it was the best it had ever been. He really had no idea what had changed between then and the fall. It had just kind of happened without him noticing. "I'm sure you're right, Al. We'll get this whole mess down here straightened out, go home, and Winry will beat me over the head a few times, tell me what an inconsiderate idiot I am, and then everything will be fine."

Al nodded. "That sounds about right." He smirked. "So don't you think _maybe_ you ought to remember to bring her back something to let her know you actually thought about her while you were gone?"

"As usual," Ed snorted softly, "You are the voice of reason, Alphonse. All right. I guess this means we have a little more shopping to do."

* * *

The one thing Ed had requested aside from the original deal, and only yesterday when everything was obviously going well, was the chance to speak with the Mayor and anyone she wished to include and get a better feel for the political situation and what the _people _of Aerugo wanted. Mayor Talacan had been so surprised by the request that she had agreed almost immediately.

The dinner plans included only Edward and Alphonse. Al had tried to insist that Brewster should take his place and he would stay with the troops, but Brewster had pointed out that Al was much more likely to notice anything Ed missed than Brewster was, and he was sure he would get a full account later. Besides, he was still dealing with a mildly sore foot and didn't feel like hiking back into town unless absolutely necessary.

Dinner was held in the back private dining room of Leraro's finest restaurant. The Mayor's entourage included two other members of the City Council. Two men named Rico Varr and Iguelo Torres.

Margite was mildly friendlier to them than she had been during most of the times they had spoken. Though that handful of meetings were mostly in public. Compared to her conversation with Ed from the wall, she was downright chummy. ::I appreciate the discipline of your soldiers,:: she commented after they had ordered and were waiting for their food. ::While it is clear they enjoyed the hospitality of what Leraro has to offer, I have heard not one report of inappropriate conduct or brawling.::

::I threatened them with the option of going one on one with me _and_ llama duty for the next month for anyone who got in trouble,:: Ed chuckled. He was feeling a good deal better after his chat with Al earlier. At least now it was shared concern, the way it used to be, and Al had helped alleviate some of his fears. Or, as Ed liked to think of it, _Al_-leviate some of his fears. He kept the pun to himself.

::Well it has been effective,:: Margite smiled. ::Though I am told that many of the women in town were actually rather crestfallen to find your army full of so many gentlemen.::

::We can't afford a lack of discipline,:: Al replied, sipping at his cold iced tea. ::There is too much at stake.::

::Indeed there is,:: Rico Varr, the oldest of the three – he looked old enough to be _their_ father – nodded sadly. ::I admit I fear that this may be the regime that finally tears Aerugo apart.::

::The fighting we've been avoiding?:: Al looked across the table at them.

::Mostly locals,:: Iguelo Torres confirmed. ::Many are desperate for change. So desperate they will take it even if it means backing corrupt men making empty promises.::

::I take it none of you approve of what is happening in Bueaire?:: Ed asked cautiously. This was their best chance to get a feel for the political mire they were walking into.

::Everyone wants prosperity and peace,:: Margite replied with a shrug. ::The old cabinet, while corrupt, kept things peaceful even if some people prospered over others. Most of us are not starving. Out this far, we were often left alone. But those with little often want what those with a lot more have. As such, they are willing to follow this new government because they _have_ what everyone else wants, and are claiming that they will share it.::

::They offer prosperity,:: Rico added. ::But they have gotten rid of the peace.::

::We would rather have both, obviously:: Iguelo commented. ::But prosperity is nothing without peace, while peace has a value in itself when we were already surviving.::

::People get greedy.:: Ed understood that far too well. ::And you're saying that a lot of the people are happy with the changes.::

::For now,:: Margite replied. ::They refuse to see the violence that has been done against those in the cities who oppose them directly and happen to be within reach. Few of us are willing to put our necks out and become local examples by losing our heads.::

::That's terrible,:: Al sighed. ::But that's why we're here. To make sure that what happens is what's best for the people.::

::A noble sentiment,:: Rico smiled, his tanned, wrinkled face taking on even more lines. ::But difficult to determine when the people cannot agree on what they need or want.::

::So there's no majority, no consensus?:: Ed asked.

::Not that will stand up with any unified voice,:: Margite shook her head. ::Too many like what they are hearing, or are unwilling to make waves. They have lived long enough knowing that hiding their heads in the water is safer than speaking out against the government; against _any_ government.::

::So they wouldn't welcome back the old cabinet either?:: Al asked.

::No,:: Rico shook his head. ::They were not well liked, nor respected, despite the fact that we have had much worse, even in the last seventy years, which is about as far back as I can remember clearly.::

::So assuming that the new government doesn't last, and the old one does not return to power, what would the people prefer?:: Ed asked, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

::That,:: Iguelo sighed. ::Is a very good question. It seems right now, that they would be happy with anyone who can offer them money without the risk of losing their heads.::

Ed didn't like the picture he was getting of politics in Aerugo at all, but it certainly explained why the situation was the way it was and convinced him that, more than anything, they were needed here even if it wasn't necessarily entirely in the way Ed had originally expected.

* * *

"This is going to be more complicated than I thought," Ed sighed as they walked back out to the camp a couple of hours later. The complexities of the situation made him uneasy and twisted his gut. At least, he was pretty sure that was the situation and not his third helping of caramelized baked custard.

"How do we help people who don't know what they want, or want something that is likely going to hurt them, and not just in the long run?" Al agreed, looking as worried as Ed felt.

"For now, by following orders," Ed determined, trying to force a surety he didn't entirely feel. "We know that the current government is a problem, whether the people realize it or not. In Amestris, we removed Bradley right? Well, Mustang did. The homunculi were running the country and causing all the conflicts we were in. So even though the people didn't all hate the government, we did what needed to be done." That was rational. It made sense at the time, and it had proven the right decision. Ed had never doubted it was. "The old government here wasn't great, but they were ousted by people who are killing the people who oppose them. No matter how good they might be at delivering promises or not, that's not acceptable and it's hurting a lot of people. So no matter which was better or worse, neither group should be in power."

"We didn't promise or agree to restore the old government," AL nodded in agreement. "That's something at least. But we can't leave a gaping hole at the top either."

"That's for sure," Ed sighed, kicking a rock ahead of him as he thought. By the end of the night his head was even more stuffed than his stomach, and with things that didn't go nearly as well together. "We'd be leaving them open for another set of tyrants to just step in. But as long as the money controls the politics, I'm not sure how we can make sure that doesn't happen."

"That's why Breda has diplomats and political experts in Central to figure it out," Al smirked. "We're just supposed to get to Bueáire and take care of the men there first so that this mess _can_ be figured out right?"

"Right." It was funny how simple that had sounded in the safety and comfort of Headquarters.

"So we do like you said. We follow our orders, get everyone down to Bueáire alive, and take it one step at time." Al seemed a little more at peace with that idea now, instead of trying to solve everyone's little disagreements. Obviously he had reached the same point Ed had come to weeks ago on the issue.

"If we want to keep our sanity," Ed replied, only partially joking, "That's about all we _can_ do right now."

**February 27****th****, 1952**

"They're here," Maes commented quietly into the momentary silence around them.

"Well, duh," Cal replied.

Sara ignored the exchange. Sixteen days since they had received word that they were cut off from the North, and six since they had finally gotten reports back of the men marching their way – no longer bothering to hide themselves – to supposedly _liberate_ Havah from the Amestrians. Sara found it mildly ironic that, lately, the locals of Havah didn't seem to be finding much to complain about. The Amestrians had no where else to spend what pay they had received over the past few months, and the army was buying most of their needed supplies, not taking them.

The alchemists stood on the walls and watched the enemy roll in and begin to set up camp about a half a mile off. There was mostly cleared farmland south of the city instead of thick forest, so it didn't take much.

"How long do you think it will take them to attack?" Sara asked Kane, who was standing on the other side of her, looking out across the intervening distance with his field binoculars.

"A day, two at most," Kane replied. "That's what they came for. You heard the reports. I doubt they'll make more than a token gesture to negotiate. They have us painted as the enemy all over the press and media, and technically that's what we _are._ That conveniently gets them out of being really required to negotiate by the standard conventions of war."

"I think after this I'll stick to scenarios where I'm not forced to play the villain," Sara sighed.

Kane surprised her by smirking. "Never be the parent of a teenage girl."

Sara rolled her eyes and put her own binoculars back up to her face. Kane had one child, a son, who wasn't anywhere close to being a teenager. "I don't think that's likely to be a problem anytime in the near future."

**February 28****th****, 1952**

Kane's assessment was entirely correct. Aerugo had parked half of a Division on their front step and didn't bother trying to circle the city. Why should they, with another Division completely blocking them off from Amestris already? The token attempt at negotiations was really a series of ultimatums shouted at the walls with a megaphone that required nothing less than complete surrender and the immediate turning over of Havah to the Aerugean military.

Frankly, Sara thought that sounded like the country was just re-occupying the place, but she held her tongue. Of course, Kane made no attempts to counter their arguments or to placate them. Orders were orders and they would hold the city. As if surrender was even an option.

The first attack came within the hour, and involved bombardment of the walls from a distance using long-range canon. Obviously they planned to take down the walls the way the Amestrians had, but without the large scale use of alchemists. They had alchemists of some sort though, it was clear, because the shells that hit the walls exploded into flaming masses much bigger than they should have, and did a lot more damage.

Sara found herself once more leading alchemists, only this time entirely defensively. They repaired the walls as fast as they could, and did their best to strengthen them with the local materials available. There was a lot of iron in the nutrient rich soil around them, and infusing _that_ further into the stone walls of the city made a very effective defensive strategy.

Eventually though, as the Aerugeans destroyed the walls time and time again, the alchemists would run out of ready materials to rebuild them, or be pushed to their limits. There was only so much to be done. At some point, the walls would be breached, and they would have to march out and fight if they wanted to avoid the messy slaughter street-by-street fighting would become.


	11. Chapter 11

**March 6****th****, 1952**

"If this goes on much longer we're not going to be able to retreat!" Alphonse gasped as he dropped back behind the berm the alchemists had erected for their men to hide behind.

"It's already too late to retreat," Ed replied, cursing under his breath as he slammed his hands to the ground again and somewhere on the other side of the berm there was shouting as the ground exploded around them – nothing but dirt, but it was enough to shake people's nerves and make them stop firing.

They had been given bad information, it was as simple as that, and now they were fighting in the worst possible terrain. It was broken and uneven and it was impossible to hold proper formations together, though the men were doing an admirable job given the situation. The problem was, apparently the militia had decided that the Amestrians made a more tempting target than the local dispute they had come to quell. Al didn't know if they had been tipped off that the Brothers' division was out here or had merely gotten lucky, but Al was sick of jungle fighting.

Ed had a point. This was the second day since they had first been attacked, and the combat had been going on consistently since early that morning. With the afternoon sun blazing overhead somewhere above the canopy, it was hot under the trees, muggy, and Al kept swallowing tiny insects if he opened his mouth for too long.

"We've got to figure out how they keep changing positions," Al replied, panting as he clapped his hands together and sent small whirlwinds of air up the hill and into the midst of the enemy. He couldn't make them too large here, the natural air movement was entirely wrong for it and it took a lot more energy than it would have in the more open plains and deserts of much of Amestris.

"Actually," Ed replied, taking a moment and wiping the sweat and dirt from his face with his sleeve. "I have a theory about that, Al."

Al ducked down as a bullet whizzed past his ears. "Now would be a_ very_ good time to share it."

"Well if you wanted to move people from one place to another in hostile territory without being seen, how would you do it?" Ed asked as he began to sketch something in the dirt. As Al watched, he recognized it as the area they were in. Ed began drawing a couple of new lines as well, connecting the areas soldiers were coming out at, and then the_ same _troops – there was no way Ed and Al could be fooled enough not to tell when some of them were the same officers – were appearing in places they shouldn't be able to without having been seen by the Amestrians or going right through their ranks.

"Tunnels!" Al exclaimed as he realized what Ed was getting at. "You think they're using tunnels. That would make sense," he nodded. The soil around here under the trees, and the style of tree roots, would allow for surprisingly easily tunneling he suspected, compared to other forests. "But how would they have had time?"

"The tunnels were already here," Ed shrugged. "You've heard the same stories I have. The locals have had conflicts for generations over different things, and these areas haven't always been friendly. What better place to hide or better way to hide your movements?"

"Can we locate them?" Al contemplated the lines. "It shouldn't be hard since we know where they would be likely to be able to put them, and where they're attacking from."

"Let's get scouts on it tonight when things quiet down," Ed agreed.

It was the only break through they had had since getting caught on the low ground in thick forest and more spread out than they would have liked. "When we get the chance, we really should move out into more open territory," Al voiced the opinion he had held for a couple of weeks now that it was actually an option.

Ed scoffed, again. "I told you, Al, all that will do is make us even more open targets. You think they'll come out of the forest just to shoot at us when they can continue to hide in the trees and do it with less risk?"

"Let's just send out those scouts." Al didn't want to argue with Ed about this again. Not right in the middle of a fire fight. They should locate the tunnels and take them out. It was a sound strategy that would fix their much more immediate problems.

**March 7****th****, 1952**

Things quieted down at night. Even the enemy needed to sleep sometime. As the Officers sat blearily over cups of early morning coffee before dawn, the scouts returned, and it turned out that Ed's theory was entirely correct.

"There are entrances here and here for certain," one of the scouts, a Sergeant, tapped her fingers in two places on the local map they had picked up at their last stop. "Probably one here as well," she indicated a third location, but it was much further away and behind a lot more of the enemy line; the part that hadn't moved since they had been stalled in this hell hole.

"So all we have to do is sneak in to those points and blow the tunnels," Ed grinned.

"You make it sound so easy," Brewster yawned and drained his coffee, refilling it from the pot on the table. It was thick, dark sludge that Alphonse didn't much care for, but it was better than nothing when they were as short on sleep as they were and worn out from constant combat.

Ed really didn't look much better than the rest of them, but either he was hiding it or, perhaps as usual, Ed was just ignoring the signals he was getting from his brain telling him he was tired. His brother had always been good at pushing himself well beyond normal human endurance. Though it would come back to bite him later. "It wouldn't be that hard to sneak in two men. We should use alchemists," he added only a second later. "Setting explosives takes too long and alchemists could collapse the entire tunnel system without having to locate the entire thing for certain."

"It's just a matter of finding the weak points and exploiting them," Al agreed. He didn't much like the idea of catching soldiers inside and burying them, certainly sending them to their deaths, but if they collapsed the tunnels at night when the men weren't moving, than all they did was make it much easier to pin down the enemies movements. He could live with that, since it seemed to be the plan.

"There's just one complicating factor," the scout sighed a moment later.

"What's that?" Brewster asked.

"Apparently they've got civilians in custody," she frowned. "One of my men heard voices in one of the tunnels. Men sure, but also women and a couple of children. The best we can tell, they were dispensing a little local _justice _when they decided to come out here and have a little _fun _with us."

"We can't collapse the tunnels with children inside them," Al shook his head vehemently. No way! They couldn't go killing innocent people. They'd have to find another way.

"We may not have a choice," Ed said, shocking him, though his brother looked grim. "We should try to find a way to get them out first if it's possible."

Al was glad to hear that. "Would it be possible to sneak in while they're not using the tunnels and get them out?"

"Probably," Ed nodded thoughtfully. "If we went in early enough, just before dawn maybe, after they've finished moving for the night." The fact that they switched up the way they did implied a pattern of their major movements all being at night. "Can you lead us to where they are?" he looked at the Sergeant.

She nodded, looking mildly concerned. "Yes, General."

"By _we_ you mean whoever we send right?" Al asked, as that warning feeling he sometimes got tickled the back of his neck.

Ed grinned as he looked up. "I mean you and me."

"There are other alchemists in this army, Ed," Al frowned. Not that he didn't want to save them himself, but now wasn't the time to be playing hero. "Why do you keep insisting on doing things yourself?"

"Hey, they've got their hands full as it is," Ed shook his head. "Most of what you and I have been doing any of them can handle._ This _is not about rank or talent. It's about experience. You're the one who insisted we have to get them out," he pointed out, already analyzing the map.

Al wasn't sure he liked Ed's tone. "Are you saying you'd rather just let them die?"

"Of course not!" Ed's head snapped upward so sharply Al heard his brother's neck pop. "What kind of an idea is that?"

"It just sounded like it from the way you …oh never mind," Al sighed and drank his coffee. It wasn't worth the argument when Ed was hyper-focusing on the mission at hand. "So we're going in."

"I'll take one entrance, you'll take another," Ed nodded. "We hit after they've finished their movements and before they're getting ready in the morning. The goal is to limit their movements after all, not mass slaughter." From the look in his eyes, Al knew that Ed was expecting him to say something else contradictory.

While the plan was risky, Al hadn't thought of anything better, and he _didn't_ think Ed was turning into some opportunistic warmonger; whatever his brother's suspicious little mind might think. Al didn't respond to Ed's look, he just nodded. "Sounds good to me."

**March 9****th****, 1952**

Ed crept through the pre-dawn darkness with all the stealth he possessed. Years of practice were not enough to make him overly confident. He did not dare think for a moment that he was better at moving in this terrain than the people who had grown up here or trained here regularly.

The Aerugean camp was quiet and Ed had little trouble avoiding their guards. Cautiously he made his way to the tunnel entrance to the north of their own camp. The one Al was taking sat further to the south, and between them they should be able to hamper the enemy's movements and hopefully open up the way so they could get their own men to continue south-west down the river. He was sick of his men being stuck in between the low ridge-lines of the hills and picked off. At least it was good to know that their losses were minimized by the use of the State Alchemists. So far they had lost only four hundred men. While Ed hated to use the word _only, _he knew it would have been a couple thousand by now most likely without them.

Ed crept a couple of feet into the tunnel, ducking out of view of anyone who might glance at the entrance and squatted down, listening in the quiet. The tunnel was pitch-black at this hour, and it smelled of dank, rich wet earth. He waited for several minutes until he was sure he hadn't been spotted. He could hear his heart, and then the sounds of murmuring voices somewhere in the tunnel. Yeah, that sounded like a child being comforted by a woman's voice; the mother probably. Then he heard another sound that quickly overwhelmed it.

That didn't sound like prisoners. It sounded like marching feet. But they had verified the positions of every unit they had been fighting for the past few days. That meant…._shit, reinforcements!_ Ed ducked out of the entrance and behind a tree just in time as more men started to come out of the tunnel. They were clearly fresh troops, their unit insignia not one of the several they had identified among the enemy.

They were coming out faster. It was now or not at all. _Damn it, damn it, damn it! _"Now, Al!" Ed bellowed, his heart aching as he tried not to think too hard about the people below, and slamming his hands together before hitting the mound that was the tunnel entrance. This wasn't a finesse job. The entire area was bathed in brilliant blue light as it raced down the length of the tunnel and off into the woods, accompanied by the sound of dirt collapsing inward at an ever increasing pace.

* * *

Alphonse was hidden near his own entrance, listening to the quiet, soothing sound of a mother singing a lullaby to her crying child when he heard the sound of footsteps. At first he thought they must be above ground, but then he realized they weren't. They were underneath, and coming from a southern direction. Reinforcements? He was just about to go into the tunnel after the prisoners when he heard Ed's first shout.

Now? _No._ If he collapsed the tunnel now over two dozen innocent people would die!

"Damn it, Al, that's an order!" Ed shouted again and Al heard the sound of gunshots being fired. The alchemical light on the other side of the ridge vanished.

Al darted for the entrance. He could get them out before soldiers arrived surely. But he had to work fast if he wanted to help out Ed. He froze momentarily as soldiers began to come out of his entrance as well. It was too late to get inside. He hesitated, then dodged behind a tree as one of them spotted him and shouted an alert, a bullet flying in his direction almost immediately.

Without another moment's hesitation, Al clapped his hands together and dropped to the earth practically on top of the tunnel. Blue light flared once more in the night, temporarily blinding the soldiers coming out of the tunnel. They continued to shoot in his direction.

Al was sobbing as the tunnels collapsed beneath his hands. Not too far underground, muffled by the earth, he heard the sounds of screaming. _I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry. _

* * *

Ed got away from the Aerugeans, if just barely. His uniform had holes in it from where bullets had winged him, one leaving a bleeding scratch on his right thigh that stung worse than it actually was. He limped back to camp after nearly a mile detour around the Aerugean encampment that had been between him and his men after dawn. Any elation he felt at having succeeded in the mission was dampened by exhaustion and the fact that the adrenaline rush was long over. All he wanted now was a bath and a hot meal, and then some sleep. They wouldn't be moving today anyway. On the other side of the ridge he could _hear_ the Aerugeans moving, obviously preparing to retaliate, but without their expected reinforcements, who now lay dead underneath tons of dirt.

He did his best not to think about the dead civilians as he paused, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. Running through the dark jungle dodging bullets was not _his_ idea of a good party.

Ed didn't know who spotted him first, but within a couple of minutes Matthias Wood approached, a deep frown furrowing his face under his short blond hair. "Thank goodness," he sighed. "We were beginning to wonder. It's been too quiet up there for way too long."

"Only a couple of hours," Ed smirked then winced when he chuckled dryly. There was a winged shot that had clipped his ribs too. His throat was parched. "The tunnels are collapsed as far as I could make them. From the sounds of it, if we did it right they should have caved in back at least a couple of miles."

"That sounds about right," Matthias nodded. "Need a hand?"

Ed shook his head and made himself walk upright on his own, much as a shoulder to lean on would not have been unappreciated. "A couple of scrapes isn't enough to cry over. If you're ever carrying me into camp I'll probably be dead."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Hal Brewster winced as he joined them. "It sounds prophetic."

"Well it's a good thing I don't believe in fate or tempting the gods then isn't it?" Ed quipped. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized someone very important was missing. "Where's Alphonse?"

"Safe," Brewster replied. "He got back over an hour before you, and not a scratch on him despite having to fight off a couple dozen men."

Ed's chest unclenched with unspeakable relief. "Good. He took long enough to pull off his end I was worried for a bit that they got him before we even started, but that was some work on his part." Brewster and Wood exchanged looks. "What? What's wrong? You said Al wasn't hurt."

"I said there wasn't a scratch on him," Brewster replied softly.

Wood sighed. "He's pretty upset, Ed." It was a sign of the seriousness that he didn't even bother with _Fullmetal._ "He kept talking about how he could hear them screaming as they died… the civilians. I took him back to your tent after Doctor Knox took a look at him to make sure he wasn't hurt."

Of course Al was upset. He was a gentle spirit by nature, and that would shake anyone. Ed still felt a heavy guilt weighing on him about things turning out the way they had. "He'll be all right," he replied.

"You should talk to him after you get cleaned up," Wood shook his head. "I've never seen him like this."

"Al's pretty sensitive," Ed said reassuringly. He was sure Al would be fine.

Wood looked less than convinced. "I offered him the fifth of rum I picked up in Leraro, Ed, and he accepted it."

Okay, so maybe it was worse than he thought. Ed wanted to head straight for his tent, but Wood and Brewster both _insisted_ that Ed see the doctor first and get his wounds looked at, no matter how minor they might be.

"Scratches indeed," Doctor Knox snorted as Ed sat in nothing but his shorts and undershirt on one of the medical beds thirty minutes later as the old man finished stitching up the gash in his leg. Ed didn't think it was that bad, but Knox took his time and it took ten stitches to hold it tightly closed. His side had been declared shallow enough to be cleaned, slathered in a salve that would keep out infection, and bandaged. "With commanding officers like you who needs enemies? You get yourselves killed off given enough opportunities."

He was gruff and relatively irritating, but Ed had found that oddly reassuring. The man was a little like Stevenson had been, but without the sense of humor. He didn't care about rank either. A patient was a patient. "You speak from experience?" Ed asked as he was allowed to stand up and pull his pants back on over his freshly bandaged leg.

"I was a medic during the Ishbal campaign as well," Knox nodded and said nothing more.

Ed didn't press. He rarely did. From the man's tone, he knew that Knox was one of those old soldiers who knew exactly what kind of a fight Ishbal had really been. "You must have been treating Mustang," he chuckled wryly.

"Several times actually," Knox replied humorlessly. Okay, so his dour disposition could get old quickly. "Stay out of combat for a couple of days and command from the back where you belong. If you pop those stitches I'll see about having you sewn to the bed instead."

"Yes, Sir," Ed nodded. "Thanks for the patch job," he added with a smirk as he pulled the rest of his uniform back on, yanked his boots on and stood, tapping them on the feet a couple of times to get his feet settled into them. After this long, they almost felt like a second skin, though they were getting pretty worn out.

"Just _try_ to stay in one piece," Knot sighed as Ed left. While Ed wasn't sure how the old man did it, he had to still be in pretty damned good condition to keep up with the rest of them for this long in this kind of terrain. All Ed really had was respect for the man, not that he would tell him that!

Ed was waylaid one more time as he hobbled past the Mess and the smell of breakfast was simply too much for him to resist. Screw will-power; he was _starving _after all that high-energy alchemy and running for his life. He wolfed down three bowls of oatmeal with slices of local fruits, and probably could have eaten a lot more, except he filled up temporarily by slaking his thirst with plenty of fresh water.

It was two hours after Ed made it back to camp that he finally got back to his tent. By then, he could hear gunfire a quarter mile distant to either side as the fighting began again for the day. Brewster would be out there giving orders and handling things. Ed was glad to have so many competent officers under his command. It meant that, for the moment, he could get some much needed rest.

Ed ducked inside quietly in case Al had fallen asleep. Neither of them had slept the night before. It had taken most of the night just to get into their respective positions. As he expected, Al was curled up on his cot in his bedroll, his back to the entrance. The little flask of rum was definitely empty. It lay on its side on the table without a spilled drop; silent testament to the guilt and pain that had to be racking his brother. Standing perfectly still, Ed could see that Al wasn't asleep. His breathing wasn't even enough. "Alphonse, you okay?"

For nearly a minute, there was silence, and Ed began to think that maybe Al really was asleep after all, or just refused to answer. "I could hear them, Ed," he finally said softly, his voice cracking in a way Ed hadn't heard since they were boys. "They were crying out, and they screamed before they died." Al was still crying now, Ed realized.

Ed picked up the flask and tipped it over, which did nothing but confirm that Al had finished it. He set it back down as he sat down on the edge of Al's cot, and turned slightly to rest his hand on Al's shoulder. "We didn't have a choice," he replied just as quietly, his own regret clear in his voice. "There was nothing you could have done, Al. We didn't have time. You followed an order."

"From _you,_" Al replied with a surprising vehemence. "That's not following orders, Ed. If I hadn't done it you wouldn't have done anything to me and I know it." There was a bitter twist in his words. "I know it had to be done. That doesn't make it better. That doesn't make those deaths right."

"No, it doesn't," Ed agreed with a deep sigh, rubbing Al's shoulder absently with his hand. His brother was shaking. There was no point in voicing his other observations. They had saved thousands of lives at the cost of enemy soldiers and only a handful of civilians. Likely they had saved themselves days, if not weeks, more of fighting. They could break things now and move on. But Al knew all of that as well as Ed did, and it was right that they should mourn the blood they spilled – the blood of innocent people.

Ed hadn't stopped feeling the pain and guilt that came with killing; he had just gotten used to it.

**March 12****th****, 1951**

Five months and nine days; not that Winry was counting. All right, so she _was _counting. No matter how busy she tried to keep herself, Winry couldn't manage to lose track of the days for even twenty-four hours. Her business trip to Rush Valley had been a pleasant and much needed distraction.

Five months without as much as a word. Okay, so they were maintaining strict radio communications silence most of the time, but Elicia had gotten_ several_ short messages from Al; little things, sometimes silly. Elicia shared them when they talked. Al missed her, he loved her, he promised to bring her flowers.

From Edward? Nothing. Not that Winry should have expected any differently. Ed had never been a good correspondent in the best of times. She just went about life as usual, keeping busy and waiting for her wayward alchemist to come back in through the door with a cocky grin and dozens of new stories of danger and death-defying experiences. It was enough to drive her crazy.

Today she was having the girls over in the afternoon for tea and talk. They still did it at least once a month, if only to make sure_ everyone_ kept their sanity given the current political situation.

"I'll be at the hospital, Mom," Ethan smiled at her as he came downstairs. He was growing again, Winry noted; the hems of his scrub pants were at least a quarter inch too short. "Before you ask, I've already finished my homework, sorted out my laundry, and given Bounce her bath."

Winry closed her mouth and smiled. "Thanks, sweetie. Have a good time and I'll see you later." She knew he wouldn't be back until well after dinner. He never was when he had the time to volunteer at the hospital. Especially right now. The injured that could be transported up from Aerugo were – mostly to Southern Headquarters – but more and more were starting to come up to Central, especially the ones in need of auto-mail. Winry had been part of three auto-mail surgeries that week alone; one foot, one arm from above the elbow, and a hand. The hand had been particularly difficult because of the nature of the injury.

"I will. Enjoy the chatter box," Ethan teased as he headed out the front door.

Winry just smiled and turned back to the paperwork she was looking over for the newest contracts for Rockbell Auto-mail. Business was booming, but there were moments when it seemed slightly overwhelming lately. She finally set the papers down, closed the leather folder they were in, took off her reading glasses, and rubbed her eyes. The girls would be over soon so she might as well get the teapot steeping. She had no doubt that Ethan would be perfectly happy to be out of the house instead of listening to a bunch of middle-aged women having girl talk.

Riza, Elicia, and Nancy were coming this time. Sciezka normally came but was out West visiting her son and his family to see her newest grandchild, though poor Vato was stuck at home hard at work at HQ, unable to take leave. Gracia, as always, was busy with one of her clubs' fundraisers. Winry was glad she enjoyed being a part of things; personally she couldn't imagine keeping up with so many different activities! Alyse definitely got it from her grandmother.

"I'm so glad you're back," Elicia chuckled as she came in the door with a tray full of small fruit tarts in hand. "It was so dull last week! How was the trip?"

"Fantastic for business," Winry chuckled as she set the teapot on the stove to heat and began pulling out cups, the sugar, and the creamer. "Murder on my diet."

"Travel is supposed to be like that though," Elicia grinned wickedly as she set down the tray. "What's the fun if you don't have a great time that you'll regret for months after you get home?"

"You know, when men say that it usually means something entirely different," Winry smirked at her friend.

"Isn't it nice to know ours aren't like most?" Elicia smiled knowingly, though her expression was a little wistful.

"Sure," Winry nodded, turning away long enough to rinse out the cups. She knew that, whatever Ed was doing, it almost certainly wasn't having a great time.

Elicia seemed to take her silence for missing Edward. "Oh I'm sure the boys are fine," she said as she uncovered the tarts and pulled out the dessert plates from the cabinet. "You know Edward and Alphonse. If anything was wrong we would have heard something. They're probably in some little scenic village somewhere wondering if we're worrying about them, or so wrapped up in their work that they've temporarily forgotten our existence."

"Edward maybe," Winry shook her head. "Al hasn't. He's the one making the radio reports isn't he?"

Elicia nodded. "His little _notes_ you mean? You know Al. He's probably convinced that I'd feel slighted and abandoned if he didn't get something in, though he ought to know better by now. Edward's got command of the whole mission. I'm sure he's just busy."

Winry sighed. She didn't want to vent, but maybe she needed to. Elicia, if anyone, would understand. "There wasn't even anything for our anniversary last month." Wow she sounded like she was whining. Or at least, she thought so. "And I still feel guilty for how I acted before he left."

Elicia's patient smile told Winry that her friend understood, though she found Winry's worry amusing. "Edward's a big boy. I'm sure he's not holding it against you. I mean, you were angry with him, and you had every right to be. I wasn't all that happy with Alphonse either, but I couldn't very well make him stay home after how terrible he felt not being there to keep an eye on Edward during the Xing War. Blackberry or Cherry?"

"What?" Winry turned around, thrown off momentarily by the non sequitur, to find Elicia holding up one of each of the tarts.

"You sound like a woman in need of a pick me up," Elicia smirked.

Winry eyed the two. "I really shouldn't," she sighed after an indecisive moment.

"Oh it can't be that bad," Elicia rolled her eyes. "You were only gone a couple of weeks. Or is it that you're worried that Ed would even notice an extra pound or two?"

She knew Elicia was teasing, but that didn't help. Winry shook her head. "It's not that," she disagreed, though she didn't point out that – as she had mentioned once in a previous gripe session – Ed _had_ noticed before he left. "Sugar just hasn't really agreed with me recently. Not consistently, but on and off."

"That bug you had last month maybe, where your temperature kept going up and down?"

"Doubtful," Winry shook her head.

"Then it's just stress because you're worrying too much," Elicia replied decisively. "Ed and Al will be home safe and sound in the next couple of months and if you're still feeling guilty you can drag him upstairs and _keep_ him there until neither of you can walk if it will make you feel better."

"I think we missed the more interesting part of this conversation," Riza commented with a droll smile as she joined them. Winry hadn't heard her come in, but noticed that Nancy was with her.

What a perfect segue for a chance of topic! "Hardly," Winry smirked. "Elicia was trying to tell me how to handle Edward."

"Given you're the only person who can, that seems rather unnecessary," Riza chuckled. "I hope no one minds that I brought cucumber salad instead of a dessert. Lately Roy seems to think he's twenty-five again and I'm tired of having to _order _him to eat vegetables. If I see another take-out junk dinner in my house again I'm going to scream."

"I'm glad he's enjoying his work," Winry smirked. "And no, I don't mind. _Some_ ladies have no sympathy for the problems of their friends," she eyed Elicia, who shrugged and gave an impish laugh.

"She'll catch up eventually," Nancy chuckled softly. "Then she can complain along with the rest of us."

Winry had to admit, while she had long ago stopped thing of Elicia as a much-younger sister, that twelve years seemed to mean a lot more as they got older as far as the other end of health issues went. Elicia was still only in her early forties, and hardly looked it. As much as she wasn't usually that vain, Winry couldn't help being a little jealous. Normally, she wouldn't have cared. But up until recently, she'd never had trouble maintaining a weight she was happy with either.

"No thank you," Elicia shook her head. "Besides," she chuckled. "It's not like anyone here has much to complain about." Well that was true too in the grand scheme of things. Winry suspected Riza was probably the fittest of the girls, but she worked at is as much as the rest of them. Winry privately wondered if their husbands were aware of just how hard their wives worked at keeping healthy and fit on top of having borne children. Given how health conscious the boys had to be in their line of work – especially now – it seemed interesting to realize they might not.

"Except our husbands?" Nancy teased as she set down her own contribution on the table: fruit salad. "Poor Heymans. I've stopped baking almost entirely lately. He tries to be good, but the war has him tied up in knots and when he stresses I could bake for all of _Headquarters_ and we wouldn't have leftovers."

"I seem to recall he likes fruit too," Riza chuckled sympathetically. "And just about anything else for that matter. How did you get this out of the house?"

"I bought it and made it today after he left for work," Nancy shook her head ruefully. "I figured I could leave any left for Ethan or Elicia could take it home to feed Will. Growing boys seem to be the best place to dispense with unwanted leftovers."

"Isn't that the truth," Winry chuckled as the tea kettle whistled and she pulled it back off the stove. Almost like a signal, the girls all sat down around the table. "Ethan's growing again but it all seems to be vertical. Finding anything that fits him in store-bought clothing is getting to be a bit of a challenge."

"I think Will's finally about done," Elicia sighed, smiling with obvious relief. "If I have to buy that boy another pair of pants before the end of school he'll have to deal with me tacking on brightly colored bands around the bottom out of my scrap fabric."

"Well that would be an interesting fashion statement," Nancy smiled.

"Speaking of," Winry looked at Elicia. "Where's Alyse this afternoon?"

"Still at school, swamped with meetings as usual," Elicia shrugged. "Right now her big project is the spring formal dance. She's the head of the committee so every decision goes through her. It's coming up in just a couple of weeks so I don't think I'd see her at all if she didn't have to come home to sleep, bathe, and pull something clean out of her closet."

"She's got quite a talent there," Nancy nodded. "Is she keeping up with school?"  
"Straight As," Elicia confirmed. "Or I'd have made her cut back on the activities long ago. I know she drives Will a little nuts. He's so stressed out about this last term and his application to University that her enthusiasm and how easily she seems to do everything irritates him."

"Does she have a date?" Winry asked the question that she was really wondering. While she knew Ethan could probably have told her since he saw his cousin every day at school and this year they had half of their classes together, it wasn't exactly a mom-asks-son kind of question.

"She does," Elicia nodded. "He's a nice enough boy. One of Will's friends from the Astronomy club actually and he's on the soccer team. That's part of what's bothering Will," she chuckled. "He doesn't like the fact that his friends don't see Alyse as his _baby sister_ anymore."

"I admit, it almost makes me glad Maes is an only child," Riza stirred sugar into her tea and sipped. "He would likely have had similar issues in that kind of situation."

"And with a brother?" Winry asked. After all, Ed and Al had a very different sibling relationship; and her own three children were just as different in how they interacted with each other.

"It would depend on personality," Riza admitted. "But chances are we would have ended up with at least one of them even more like Roy, and that just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Should I tell Roy you said that?" Nancy asked, sipping.

"Please do," Riza nodded. "He could use the reminder of his mortality."

She was joking of course. They all joked about their husbands a lot of the time. It helped keep things light, and in perspective. Winry listened as Riza told them about Roy's latest hair-brained schemes, and Nancy talked about Breda and the kids. Charisa and Niam were both in school now, and this afternoon playing at friends' houses, but Nancy had plenty of stories about what the two were doing.

It was nice that they could all talk openly. At least mostly. It wasn't unusual for one of them to vent, to express concerns over relationships and other life problems. Winry had voiced her own frustrations about Ed's taking the mission the first time they had gotten together after Ed and Al had left, but she hadn't brought it up since. There didn't seem to be much point. If she couldn't even figure out her own feelings at this point, the others seemed to be out of ideas.

So she lost herself in general pleasant conversation, laughed at the funny stories, and nibbled at the treats everyone had brought. What _was_ wrong with her lately anyway?

"So what's really bothering you?" Elicia asked after Riza and Nancy left a while later. She turned to her with a sympathetic expression.

Winry paused, caught off guard by the change in tone. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're not normally this self conscious, and you haven't said a word about Edward since the others got here."

Winry shrugged. "It's just that every time I think about the situation before he left I get angry at him all over again," she admitted. "_Really_ angry, and I try to think through it rationally and figure out why I'm so mad, and why things were strange, and I can't." She wiped her face with one hand. "It's like I'm just finally starting to realize that something's not working; like noticing a mechanical problem only when it starts to make noise, but it's been a flaw in the design from the beginning."

"A flaw?" Elicia frowned.

"I don't know if it's just me," Winry sighed, "Or Edward, or maybe both, but he's made it clear time and time again that he'll do what _he_ wants when it comes to his work no matter how I feel. I mean, he came home _expecting_ a fight!"

"Well you've never stood in his way," Elicia pointed out patiently. "In the end you've supported all his decisions."

"I know," Winry nodded, trying to calm down again as that strange irrationality threatened to take over. "I guess part of it's just that I'm not convinced he meant it this time. There are plenty of men who could have led that mission. He didn't have to go, and if he hadn't, Al wouldn't have either, and I'm scared for them both and mad and I … I don't know what to do anymore. It all used to make sense, and now it just doesn't. Do I sound like I'm going crazy?"

"Only mildly," Elicia shrugged. "If it's bothering you that much, you should talk it out with Edward when he gets home. If he knew how much it upset you, don't you think he'd stop?"

"No, I don't," Winry replied, more bitterly than she had intended. "We've had this talk a dozen times at least, if not more. I've lost count. He always gets stubborn and stops listening, like he's a teenager again." That was what bugged her the most. Ed was normally reasonable, understanding, and fairly attentive and caring. But anytime it came to _duty_ or an opportunity to run off into danger and he wanted to go, than he would _insist_ that was the way it had to be and nothing would change his mind. "I don't know how to make him stay home, and I'm sick of being the left behind to wait and worry and take care of the children."

That was what hurt, she realized all of a sudden. It was the promise he had made in Metz so many years ago. Ed_ had_ promised that he was done running off on missions without her, and she would be able to decide if she stayed or went with him. But ever since they had come home to Amestris, she had been left behind. It wasn't always Ed's fault, but he had stopped even asking for her opinion. He hadn't asked her about this. He hadn't _really_ been asking permission to go to Xing to study, and he had never asked about the Xing War, or the trip to Aerugo,…she could go back almost mission by mission with a catalog of times Ed had given her that look that said _I want to go and you're the only thing that could stop me, but I _want _to go. _Convincing him once he had his mind set was nearly impossible and often not worth the fighting. And it always came to a fight if she pressed.

"You need to take a stronger stand," Elicia replied confidently, cutting into Winry's ever down-spiraling thought process. "The next time you get to speak with him about it, just tell him you're _not _going to put up with it anymore and that's that. What you need," she grinned then, "Is some fun. Why don't we go out?"

"I'm not really in the mood to try on clothes," Winry grimaced.

"Who said anything about clothes?" Elicia rolled her eyes. "I _was_ listening to you earlier. "We should catch a movie or a play or something; eat out, maybe see that new History of Tools from around the world exhibit at the Museum?"

Winry couldn't help smiling. "That sounds like fun. Let's do it." And when Ed got home, she would remind him of just what promises he had made, and she wasn't going to put up with him running off without her anymore.

**March 24****th****, 1952**

The Amestrians still held the city but it was a very interesting position being on the receiving end of a siege. The first days had been intense, constant fighting until the Aerugeans temporarily ran out of large-scale ammunition and it had gotten into more traditional fighting. Or at least, close to it. The Aerugeans realized after a few days of throwing their men away against the defensive capabilities of Amestrian alchemists that they were simply piling up the losses without making headway. So things had settled down to a fight every couple of days, but they were waiting for more explosives and for the city of Havah to run out of supplies. Given the nature of the city and how much emptier it had become they were in for a long wait.

Sara couldn't remember ever having to pull so many long-hour shifts actively doing alchemy in her life. Defending the soldiers, shoring up and repairing the walls, and any other number of tasks that took time and energy; and all of that was on _top_ of her other duties as a Battalion commander. Her units had been out in front of the walls several times, and keeping them alive and making sure they had everything they needed and all her reports were filed was a lot of work. She found herself losing sleep to get everything in, and being beat on her feet by the end of the day.

Tomorrow, thank goodness, was one of _her _few days of leave – barring anything critical that required her attention or alchemy – so tonight she was relaxing and, on a rare occasion, socializing with people other than the State Alchemists who were her usual companions. Cal and Maes were both on duty tonight, so she was playing cards in one of the lounges with a couple of the soldiers she had come to know outside of her units.

"No one ever warned us you were such a card shark," Second Lieutenant Vin Masterson chuckled as he lost the first hand.

"You're lucky we're not playing for real money," Sara chuckled, shuffling the cards. It wouldn't have been really appropriate to fleece subordinate officers of what little real money any of them had left without pay coming down from Central, so they were playing for chips… literally. There was a stack of potato chips in front of each of them. Sara's had just doubled.

"At least the drinks are real," Major Corinne Raines giggled as she sipped a bright green beverage that Sara had only ever heard of. It was her second already and Sara was pretty sure she wouldn't be any threat at cards.

Sara own glass contained iced tea. "Be prepared to lose," she smiled enigmatically as she dealt the next hand.

"So sure of yourself," Masterson grinned wickedly.

"I don't usually lose when my competitors are drunk," Sara shrugged. Actually, she'd never lost a hand when the people she played with were drinking.

"It's rather dangerous to assume your competitors are drunk without proof though isn't it?" Masterson' grin broadened and he slid his own glass across the table. "Try it."

Sara eyed his cup suspiciously then slid it closer and sniffed. It _might_ have had alcohol in it, but with the amount of fumes coming off of Raines' glass next to her, Sara couldn't tell. She took a tentative sip. It was sweet, smooth, and milky, not unlike the cream liquor she enjoyed on rare occasions, but without the bite. Really it was very gentle, though there was alcohol in it she was sure. It was good! "What is it?" she asked, unfamiliar with the beverage.

"The locals call it Dulce de Leche," Masterson shrugged. "It just means it's got milk in it."

"And how can you not get drunk off of that?" Sara slid his glass back across to him.

"There's just enough rum in it to keep the milk from souring in the heat," Masterson replied, taking the drink back and finishing it. "Hardly enough to knock someone out; you want one? This _is_ supposed to be your _night off_ right?"

The expression was almost challenging, but Sara laughed and shrugged. "Sure, why not?" she said. Just one wouldn't hurt, and she had tasted it for herself.

"That's the spirit," Masterson grinned, looking down at his hand as he waved the bartender over.

It was a satisfying and relaxing evening. Sara was beginning to think she might have found a favorite beverage to keep stocked at home in place of the cream liquor that had been sitting in her cabinet for years. She had two glasses before it hit her – literally – that either Masterson had a _much_ higher tolerance than she did, or he had seriously underestimated hers and understated the potency of the drink… because about half way through the second glass the alcohol hit her system. She was looking at her cards when they suddenly blurred in front of her.

"Lieutenant Colonel?" Sara heard a voice – Raines she thought – sounding concerned, but that was all she registered before she completely passed out.

* * *

Maes hated night shifts, but there were always alchemists on the city walls. The Aerugeans had proven they weren't above night time attacks, and someone had to defend. He and Cal had just come off their shift, and he was looking forward to crashing in his bed and forgetting the rest of the world existed for a few hours.

"You dead yet?" Cal asked as they tromped through the lobby of the hotel.

"Not yet," Maes replied, yawning.

"Damn."

"Sorry to disappoint."

They were half way to the stairs when Maes thought he heard voices.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know! She didn't have that much. What is that stuff?"

"It's not that strong! I swear!"

Maes looked at Cal. "Should we investigate?"

Cal sighed. "Do we have to?"

"Someone should. If they're subordinates we'll get in trouble later," Maes pointed out. It sounded like someone was drunk, so it probably wasn't a big deal, but still.

"Fine," Cal turned and they both stuck their heads into the lounge.

Maes was immediately very glad they had. "What's going on here?" he asked sharply, doing his best to sound alert and commanding. The Major and Second Lieutenant standing on the other side of one of the tables jumped and spun, both snapping immediately alert and saluting. If it weren't for _who _Maes saw passed out at the table, he would have smirked at being saluted by another Major so deferentially. As it was, he scowled. "What happened?"

The Second Lieutenant swallowed. "I'm not entirely sure, Sir. I offered the Lieutenant Colonel a drink. While we were playing she just passed out….Sir."

Even Cal was frowning now. Maes knew that the other alchemist was aware of how little Sara drank usually, and why. He didn't even ask what the Lieutenant had given her. He just came around the table and picked up Sara's glass, which was half full he noticed, and took a sip. Well, shit. Given how little he could taste it – and he _knew _what it was – Maes had no trouble believing Sara hadn't realized how much alcohol was in it. "Were you _aware_, Lieutenant," he growled, "That the Lieutenant Colonel doesn't drink often."

"Well yes…" the man stammered. "She looked stressed so I figured she might need help loosening up. I just thought—"

"You _didn't_ think," Maes spun and glared at the man. He was tired and he was pissed off. "Did it occur to you to find out why? Or that maybe you should be very clear as to how much alcohol was in that stuff?"

"Calm down, Mustang," Cal looked over at him then. "It's not like it's uncommon for subordinate officers to underestimate their superiors." Maes almost punched Cal in the face when he heard that, but he was too far away. Then he realized that Cal's scowl was directed at the two officers as well as he strode up to them and got in their faces. "Not everyone who abstains does so for the same reasons. Misrepresenting or neglecting to fully declare the full content of a beverage could be considered sabotaging a superior officer or dishonest conduct." Neither of the other officers was even stammering now. The other Major had simply stood silently, looking unhappy about the entire situation.

"The Lieutenant Colonel has a notoriously _low_ tolerance," Maes cut in then quietly. "At least she's mature enough to handle it properly and take care of herself. It has nothing to do with_ loosening up_. Now, neither of you will say a word to anyone outside of this room about this except the person I am going to make you report to, is that understood?"

"Yes, Major Mustang," the female Major nodded. From the way her face was flushed, Maes was pretty sure she was drunk.

"Yes, Sirs," the Lieutenant Colonel also said. He looked to be the more sober of the two at the moment, even if he was mouthier.

"Good," Maes nodded. "Tomorrow morning the two of you will report to Brigadier General Kane and explain that this entire mess is your fault. You will take whatever punishment he gives you and you will _never_ tell anyone about this."

They both squeaked affirmatives again and were relieved when he gave a nod of dismissal.

When the two were gone, Cal smirked at him across the table. "Geez, you'd think you loved the girl or something."

"Shut up, Whitewater," Maes snorted. The truth was he'd gotten over Sara a while ago. Well, mostly. He would probably always have a small part of him that wished she had loved him back. That didn't mean he didn't still love her like a _sister,_ and that he wasn't protective of the one friend who had stood by him when she had the most reason to hate him. "Help cover all right?" He bent down and shifted Sara's unconscious form. He knew she wouldn't wake for a while. Gently he adjusted her until he could scoop her up in his arms. She was small enough compared to him that he could cradle her almost like a sleeping child. "I'd like to get her back to her room without anyone seeing. She'll be embarrassed enough tomorrow as it is."

Cal, to his credit, nodded and didn't say one word of protest. "I'll keep anyone occupied. Just give me about a fifteen second lead on you."

It was probably the best teamwork the two of them had ever displayed, Maes thought with irony as he walked down the halls and up the flights of stairs to get Sara back to her room. He was panting by the time they got there, but to his credit, Cal had distracted and steered four different people out of the way with them none the wiser.

When he reached Sara's room, Maes got her key out of her pocket and let himself in, then tucked her into bed after taking off her boots. He left her shirt and pants on. She'd _kill _him later if he even tried to get her into nightclothes and she found out about it. Blankets were good enough.

"She's going to feel that in the morning," Cal commented quietly from just inside the door.

"Then we'll just have to take care of it," Maes shrugged. "It's a good thing tomorrow's her day off." Otherwise it would have been a lot more difficult to come up with a viable excuse, because he knew she wouldn't be fit for duty tomorrow.

**March 25****th****, 1952**

Sara came back to consciousness slowly, her fuzzy mind aching as she tried to figure out where she was and what time it was. She didn't remember coming back to her room, but she was curled up in bed. She had been playing cards, and there had been something…. A sudden frantic urge rose in her and she sat up and leaned over the bed just in time as _whatever_ she'd had last night made an encore appearance.

Disgusting as it was, nothing hit the floor. Sara opened her eyes and focused on the bowl that a pair of hands was holding under her head. With a groan she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and collapsed back onto the pillows. "Am I dead?"

"Sorry, Twilight," Maes replied sympathetically. "You're still in this living hell with the rest of us."

"How comforting." There were plenty of things in the world that were worse than being hung-over, but Sara couldn't think of any of them at the moment. The night before was coming back to her. "Masterson's going to pay for this," she grumbled, lying still and keeping her eyes buried in the cool darkness of the pillow while her stomach churned.

"That would be the Second Lieutenant from last night right?" Maes chuckled. "Yeah he and his friend sure will when Kane gets through with them."

"You told _Kane_ about this?" Sara tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it. "What were you thinking?"

"That you were going to be too sick this morning to handle any emergencies that might come up," Maes replied with surprising patience. "And that he's not just our commanding officer, but a friend too. I talked to him this morning and he's pretty concerned. Don't worry, no one else is going to find out. Well… .except Cal."

Could this get any more humiliating? "Why Cal?"

"He helped me get you back up here without anyone seeing you," Maes replied.

He did? "So only…six people know about this?" She thought she had the math right.

"That's right," Maes confirmed. "No one else is ever going to find out. If anyone asks, you've got a cold and you're taking it easy. That's the story and we're sticking to it." He sounded mildly smug.

Sara turned her head again and opened her eyes. This time she realized he had the lights turned down low and the curtains drawn even though it was clearly bright morning outside. "I feel like an idiot. I had no idea it was that potent."

"I figured you didn't," Maes smirked. "Or you wouldn't have had it." His expression was one of sympathy as he picked up a glass and pitcher from the bedside table and poured water. "Let's see if we can get you fixed up, okay?"

"Thanks, Maes," Sara smiled softly. She still felt like hell, but at least her reputation wasn't completely shot and the humiliation was left to a very small handful of people. "I'm glad you're here."

Maes looked momentarily uncomfortable, but covered it by chuckling. "Yeah well, that's what friends are for right?"

Sara made herself sit up slowly. Once she was sure she wasn't going to vomit on the bed, she took the glass and rinsed her mouth out and spat into the bowl before drinking. "It is," she finally agreed after finishing the glass. She looked into her friend's face. So many other people she knew, even people she liked, would have told the story a hundred times over and never let her live it down. "You're one of the best."


	12. Chapter 12

**April 17****th****, 1952**

It was like wading into a swamp. The further in they went, the more the mire threatened to slow them down. The problem was this wasn't mud. Alphonse wished it were. In this case, what they were wading into was the enemy. While destroying the tunnels had allowed them the opportunity to temporarily fight their way out of the impasse they had been trapped in and keep moving down river, the fighting hadn't lessened. If anything, they had run into more soldiers more often. There was no way the government in Bueáire didn't know they were out here. At least, that was Alphonse's opinion.

They still kept to the trees, hiding and dodging the enemy as best as they could, but every few days they hit enemy soldiers and fierce fighting broke out. The numbers of wounded and actual losses were climbing. A full quarter of their fighting force was dead or wounded. It was all they could do to keep everyone moving without a fall back point to keep a standing field hospital. Anyone they left behind was likely to be captured and killed. They couldn't leave them in any of the other towns they passed either. They were past the point of reasoning with the locals. Even if the towns were not in favor of the new government, the closer they got to Bueáire the less willing the Aerugeans were to even negotiate payment in exchange for food or supplies.

They found and destroyed two more sets of tunnels, though without anyone inside them. Al would have flat out refused otherwise. That night still haunted him in his dreams and sometimes his waking moments. Never again, he swore to himself. Now though, he had some idea of the self-loathing and guilt that Ed experienced sometimes, and that Roy had for his actions in Ishbal. Al understood them now, and he desperately wished that he didn't.

* * *

The air was thick and heavy with heat and flying lead as Edward dodged from one point to the next, making his way down the line and checking out the situation for himself, shoring up a dirt wall here, sending ripples of earth under the feet of the enemy there. The forest had gotten denser, the underbrush more prolific as they came down river, and that made it harder to get away with some of the alchemical defenses he had tried earlier on. It didn't help that there were more soldiers out there now too, and they had left the boundaries of the detailed map Guar had given them weeks ago..

They had been given little choice but to try and trust what information they got from locals that didn't outright contradict the maps they still had, and that was how they had gotten into this mess; boxed in on three sides once more and fighting to keep pushing forward. Ed was sick of getting stuck. They were now well behind schedule instead of ahead and their last two attempts to radio back out to Central had been sketchy. They knew that their calls had reached the relay point at the border and been confirmed that the information was received, but they could hear almost nothing back and it had been a very short contact out of necessity.

"Have Third Company try and move back North and around to flank them," Ed gave Brewster the order as he ran into him near the end of the line. "If they close this box we're dead."

"Or worse," Brewster replied humorlessly as he called over two of his Colonels and passed on the order. They were off again immediately.

"Think positive," Ed smirked, aware of the irony of _him_ making such a statement.

"All right, I'm positive this _could_ be worse than it is," Brewster replied with a wry twist of his mouth.

"Perfect." Ed turned and headed off again. He was halfway back down the line when he heard shouting and saw a small group of Aerugeans charging down the slope towards the line and a clash of bayonets as they tried to break through. Apparently they had gotten tired of the stale-mate! Without hesitation, Ed charged in, alchemy shooting from his fingers before he even realized he'd slapped his palms together, his auto-mail arm forming the familiar blade he was used to fighting with in close quarters. He hit the side of the charging line instead of catching it head on, and shoved half a dozen of them out of line before they realized he was there. An angry alchemist in the pack was almost a death sentence as he transmuted most of their weapons into useless lumps of metal that wouldn't ever fire again with a single brush of his hands. The soldiers took down the rest of them in short order.

Only as things quieted on that end did Ed pause to take a breather, leaning against a tree on the slope as some of the men tied up the prisoners they had just caught. Perhaps they could use them as a bargaining chip to get out of this mess.

Ed heard a click behind him and turned around very slowly.

All he saw was the barrel of the rifle in his face before he instinctively swung his arm blade at his opponent, no time to pull a gun. The blade connected, and Ed felt the unmistakable resistance of tearing flesh. The soldier screamed and went down, hot blood spraying Ed in the face and soaking into his sleeves. He expected the gurgling scream that came from the enemy as he fell; his neck cut wide open and his chest bleeding.

Heart pounding from the near miss, Ed pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the man's blood from his face. Before wiping his auto-mail, he moved closer to get a look at the man who had nearly killed him. For just a moment, he stopped breathing.

It was a boy! Just a boy; he couldn't have been more than sixteen, if even that old. He wore the uniform of a soldier, but Ed could tell he wasn't in his full growth yet, and there wasn't a hair on his face. "Damn," he murmured, reaching down to close the staring, dead eyes that looked up at him accusingly in their blankness.

Ed made himself turn away from the body and walked back down the hill, absently wiping the rest of the blood from his arm before transmuting it back to normal. "How many do we have?" he looked at the prisoners.

"Fifteen, Sir," the closest Sergeant reported. "The rest are dead."

"And how many did we lose?" Ed made himself ask.

"Ten, Sir. Six more wounded," the Sergeant replied. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking concerned at the amount of blood on Ed's uniform.

"Not a scratch," Ed replied honestly, putting on a confident grin more for the sake of the men than anything else. "They weren't fast enough. Though if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get into something that isn't covered in someone else's drying blood."

"Of course, Sir," the Sergeant nodded and some of the men chuckled as Ed moved past them and headed back down the line. After the failed charge, the enemy was apparently retreating again, at least temporarily. It was never permanent.

"Oh my god, Ed!" He heard Alphonse gasp as he neared the tent and saw Al coming from the other direction. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Ed waved a hand dismissively. "Really," he added when he saw Al's doubtful expression, but he didn't say anything else as Al followed him inside. As soon as he was there, Ed stripped off his shirt and pants and pulled on clean ones. He hadn't been wearing the jacket in the field. The rank on it just made him a target and it was oppressive in the heat. Besides, everyone in the Division recognized _him _on sight. "It's not mine, see," he turned around, arms held out to prove it to Al, who finally relaxed. "Believe me now?"

"Yes, I believe you," Al smiled weakly. "But that must have been something."

Ed nodded, sobering. "It was," he admitted as he laid the blood-stained clothes out on the table and used alchemy to remove the blood from the clothes. It puddled to the ground below, soaking quickly into the soil. Then he folded the clothes and put them back in his pack. "It was a boy, Alphonse. He was aiming his rifle right in my face, and I killed him." Ed surprised himself with how calmly the words came out of his mouth with only the slightest waver.

"You didn't have a choice," Al replied, though he frowned. "A boy?"

"Yeah, in uniform," Ed nodded. He tried not to envision the body he had left only minutes before. "He looked like he was Ethan's age, or maybe as old as sixteen. I just don't know." Now his voice cracked.

He felt Al's hand on his shoulder and he looked up into Al's sympathetic face. His brother's eyes were sad, but understanding in a way they hadn't been before. They had changed. As he'd once told Sara and Ethan, you could look into a man's eyes and tell if he had killed. That knowing was there in his brother's face now and Ed felt guilty for being a part of that. "We were that age once," Al reminded him softly. "We're not the only boys in the world who grew up too quickly."

"You're right, Al," Ed nodded, swallowing. "But there's a difference between us and that kid. We survived." He had cut the boy down in a single stroke, ending any chance at a life he might have had. It had been a kill or die situation, but that didn't make it any easier.

"Only because of Equivalent Exchange," Al countered, smirking slightly. "I gave up my life for you, and then you offered yours for me. In the end, confusing as it all was for a while, we got both."

As usual, Al had a point. "I don't know if that kid's death equals out some equivalent balance in his life," Ed sighed. "But if he thought he was doing the right thing, it makes me wonder which one of us has the right of it. What are we doing here, Alphonse? I'm not entirely sure anymore."

Al's answer was nothing more than simple truth. "We're following orders, and hoping they're the right ones, just like everyone else."

**May 12****th****, 1952**

Sieges got old fast. Then they just dragged on. There was nothing elegant or interesting about them, Maes Mustang decided as he stood on the walls looking southward and watching the sun set in the West. Three months since the Aerugeans had reached Havah, and they showed no signs of leaving. In fact, they had received plenty of reinforcements since then, and enough supplies that Maes wondered if this was a siege to them, or a picnic.

Either way, it was irritating. The city was definitely running low on supplies now, and while they still had fresh water thanks to the fact that the stream came in from the North end, which Amestris still mostly controlled, and several wells dug within the city itself, food was now being strictly rationed for military and civilians alike.

The only good thing about the siege was that those who had remained in Havah who were locals were very quickly deciding that they did not approve of a government that would allow their own people to starve to death along with the supposed enemy. So within the city, things were relatively peaceful between the different groups.

In the distance, Maes could see cook fires in the Aerugean camps. Out there were men and women, just like the ones he knew, serving their country and tonight sitting around eating, drinking, and gossiping. They were people not that different from his, and he hated that they were doing this. He understood why his father rarely talked about Ishbal. It was the last time Amestris had invaded, and it had been an atrocity. So far, Maes felt that hadn't been the case here but he hated being portrayed as the villain. They _were_ invaders now. This was no longer a rescue mission, and he couldn't pretend that philanthropy or good intentions made the situation any better. There was no sugar-coating it. They were going for Bueáire to overthrow a corrupt government that was not their own. Was it any better than what his father and most of the higher-ups still in Central had done to Bradley? Only when they wrote the histories later would that be decided. All Maes could do was hope that they continued giving orders he agreed with.

A quiet rustle and subtle movement in the dark brush maybe fifty yards from the wall caught his eye and pulled Maes from his brief reverie. Squinting, Maes watched the spot, waiting for it to happen again. It could be just a wild animal, but it could also be an Aerugean spy or scout – there wasn't much difference. But there was something: a noise.

"Hey Jenkins," Maes waved over the next guy on the wall. "Keep an eye on things. Do you hear that?"

The First Lieutenant listened for a second then nodded. "What is it?"

"I'm going to check it out," Maes said then. "Cover me all right?"

"Yes, Sir," Jenkins replied.

Maes quietly swung over the wall and dropped to the ground, landing as lightly as he could. Cautiously, silently, he crept towards the noise. It sounded, he could have sworn, like a woman crying. Even if it was a trap, that was a sound he just could not ignore.

When he got close, Maes aimed his rifle into the darkness towards the sound. He didn't need it, but he knew that in the light of the moon it would be a visible show of force. ::Put down any weapons and come out with your hands up,:: he spoke in Aerugean. It wasn't the most original phrase, but it was one he knew would be understood.

The crying quieted, and a moment later a slender form in a torn dress came out of the brush, arms in the air, hair disheveled, and stepped into the light of the moon less than ten yards from where Maes stood. It _was_ a woman, no older than him. ::I am not the enemy,:: she replied softly, voice wavering but surprisingly calm. ::I am running from them. Please let me into the city. If they catch me, I am dead.::

Maes was still suspicious, but he lowered his rifle, glad he kept his gloves on when on duty. He still had a weapon to use at a moment's notice if he needed it. ::Come closer.::

The woman slowly put her hands down as she walked towards him, though she kept them out in plain sight. She stopped only feet from him, and Maes' heart jumped. He knew her! "Elena?" he blurted out in Amestrian. "Elena Albaracan?" That beautiful heart-shaped face, framed by dark gentle curls was one he had not seen in several years, but he remembered it well. The last time he had seen her, they had been in high school together and danced at State Dinners in Central. She was the daughter of one of the Aerugean ambassadors who had been assigned to Central for three years.

She froze and stared at him hard in the moonlight. "Maes Mustang?" she dropped out of the local language. "What are you doing here?"

"Being besieged," he smirked, lowering his gun completely. "I'm a State Alchemist. What are you doing here?"

"What I told you," she replied, her voice getting much softer. "Running for my life. It's a long story."

"Then let's continue the conversation someplace more hospitable," Maes suggested, looking around. "Come on." He motioned for her to come close and he led her back to the gate. "Jenkins," he called quietly back up the wall. "Let me in."

"Password?" Jenkins called back down. It was a precaution; otherwise Maes would have been annoyed. The password changed nightly too.

"Ouroboros," Maes replied, and the small guard-gate opened, and Maes led Elena inside.

Jenkins looked startled when Maes had company. "You sure she's safe?" he asked.

Maes scowled. "She's an old friend from Central," he replied.

"Sorry, Firebrand, Sir," Jenkins shrugged. "Can't be too careful. Welcome to Havah, ma'am."

"Thank you," Elena looked more than a little stunned in the low lamp light in the room in which they now stood. She also looked scared, bedraggled, and exhausted. Maes' heart ached with sympathy. If she was running, there had to be a reason. Given her father's position as a former Ambassador to Amestris, he could guess without having to try.

Maes wasn't technically off-duty yet, but this was obviously important. "I should take you straight to General Kane," he admitted.

"I understand," Elena nodded, not apparently recognizing the name. "We should go talk to him."

"I've got the watch," Jenkins sighed, but he smiled at Maes with suggestiveness in his expression that Maes wasn't entirely sure he liked. Yes, Elena was beautiful, but he hadn't brought her in here just because he was a sucker for a pretty face. He_ knew_ her; she wasn't dangerous.

Maes led Elena out of the guard house and down the streets towards the Hotel. She stuck close to him, her eyes darting this way and that even though they were within the relative safety of the city walls. There was a haunted look that tugged at Maes' heart. Tentatively, he put one arm lightly around her shoulders. Elena jumped then looked up at him. Their eyes met, but they said nothing. A moment later they continued down the street in silence.

The command office was reasonably quiet this late in the evening. With nothing going on outside the city and the majority of meetings over for the day, Maes knew this was the after-dinner down time that Kane cherished and he hated to interrupt, but Elena wasn't some regular refugee. Kane was sitting at the desk in the back corner of the room near the window, a stack of papers several inches thick in front of him, though at the moment he was drinking something out of a mug and looking out the window.

"Excuse me, General," Maes stepped into the room with Elena still next to him. He dropped his arm from her shoulders to salute. "I need to speak with you."

Kane looked down the room, his expression going from mildly curious to sharp in an instant. "What's going on, Mustang?"

"This is Elena Albaracan, Sir," Maes introduced Elena at once. He wanted to phrase this right. "You might remember her. She is Ambassador Lucan Albaracan's daughter. They lived in Central a few years ago."

Kane stood up slowly and came around his desk, coming down the room to meet them. He nodded, but he did not relax, his gaze steady and contemplative as he looked at Elena. "I remember Albaracan and his family. It has been several years, Miss Elena. What brings you to Havah? I assume you haven't been hiding here this whole time, or we would have seen you already."

Maes bit his tongue at the unspoken accusation implied in Kane's tone. What was the Sky Fire Alchemist thinking? Probably wondering if Elena was a spy.

"I was in Bueáire when the new _Cabinet_ took control of the government, General Kane." Elena almost spat the word cabinet. She met Kane's gaze evenly. "My father was one who spoke out against them and their actions. They imprisoned him and my brothers. Then they _executed_ them." Her voice wavered very slightly. "My mother and I refused to be silent, and they came in the night and burned our house."

"What happened to your mother?" Kane asked, still looking Elena directly in the eyes.

"They shot her as we ran from the house," Elena replied, a tear trickling down her cheek. Her body was trembling, but she stood firm. "I escaped the city and I have been trying to make my way North ever since."

"The border is closed," Kane pointed out.

"It wasn't when I left," Elena replied. "And Amestris is the only other home I know. I would have braved the border guard or the jungles to get out."

"Give me a good reason to believe that you're not spying for the government in Bueáire?"

"General, come on! There—"

"Enough." Maes' objection was cut off sharply as Kane's gaze shifted to him. "One more word out of turn, Mustang, and you'll be spending the next twenty-four hours scrubbing bed pans in the field hospital."

Maes nodded, not even daring to respond with a _yes sir._

"I'm waiting, Miss Albaracan," Kane turned his attention back to the woman in the torn pale red dress.

Maes was startled by the glint of steel that had come into Elena's eyes, her whole posture, while he had been distracted. "I have nothing but hatred and contempt for those people who call themselves the new leaders of this country, General," she replied in very clipped tones that barely held back a wave of raw emotion. "Three years ago my fiancé was killed in what was determined to be an_ accident. _He was Marco Peros, the son of Juahan Peros, one of our previous Cabinet members. It was no accident, but it was covered up. The man responsible now sits in the Capitol and orders the deaths of my countrymen, on _both_ sides. I did live in Central, and I am sure this army is full of familiar faces. I hope you make it to Bueáire General Kane, and I hope you give these traitors and impostors the same _justice_ they gave my father!" The tears began to flow freely from her eyes, but still she met Kane stare for stare.

Maes was one of those who had spent more time on the receiving end of Marcus Kane's hard-ass-officer act than anyone else, and entirely for reasons that were his own fault. He had never seen anyone match the man this way. Elena was stronger than she looked. He couldn't help but be impressed.

"I need to speak with you in private, Mustang," Kane said, turning away from Elena without another word to her. "Please wait in the hall, Miss Albaracan."

Maes kept his temper reined in as Elena turned and walked out of the room. There were guards at the doors and he knew she wouldn't leave. She probably couldn't have even if she wanted to at this point. He stood, waiting for Kane to say something and trying not to burst and say something he knew he would regret.

Kane looked irritated, striding back down to the other end of the room and standing, looking out the window. "Where did you find her, Maes?"

"Outside the South wall, in the brush," Maes replied. "I heard something so I went to investigate. Don't tell me you think they _knew_ I would be on the wall tonight, or that Elena and I knew each other in High School, or some other wild conspiracy theory."

"You believe her story then," Kane replied neutrally.

"I do," Maes replied without hesitation, though he couldn't keep the anger from his voice. "What was that you pulled anyway, interrogating her like that? You made her cry."

"That was the idea," Kane turned to look over his shoulder then. He was smiling softly. "At ease, Firebrand. I believe her story too."

"Then why that entire hard-ass General act?" Maes stumbled mid-argument. He had been ready for a fight.

"I needed to be certain," Kane sighed, turning back around and reaching for the cup on his desk. He drained it in a single gulp then grimaced. "I hate cold coffee." He set the cup down and sat on the edge of the desk, motioning for Maes to come down his direction. "We've had reports of people trying to cross the border claiming to be important people. With the rules against expatriation in effect that simplifies things, but making sure people are who they say they are is important, as well as making sure people who _are_ who they claim to be are still being honest about their intentions."

"So you're convinced then," Maes crossed the floor, feeling a little foolish. Kane was a reasonable man and a shrewd one. He should have trusted him.

"That she is Elena Albaracan and she hates the new regime, yes, for what that's worth," Kane sighed, nodding. "But with the current reports from there, and from the Northern front, you can understand my suspicions."

"Yes, Sir," Maes replied, but his worries about Elena were replaced with a new concern. "What _is_ the news from the North?"

Kane groaned. "Not good, though I suppose it could be worse. We've retaken Marnot, though we still don't have the rail point to the south of it. So the Second Division is doing its job, but Rehnquist and Armstrong are having hell pushing back North. The plan is to try and fold the Aerugeans between them and cut _them_ off from their supply routes. There's not enough where they are to worry about a prolonged siege like we have here."

That didn't sound good, but Kane was right. It didn't sound terrible either. "In other words, we're still stuck."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Kane agreed. He looked down at his empty cup. "I should be hearing more from Armstrong in the morning."

Maes got the feeling that the man was talking to himself now, and probably wishing his cup contained more than coffee remnants. "So, Elena can stay right?" Maes asked after nearly a minute of silence. He wanted to be very clear on that point. "You're not going to use her as some political pawn or ship her back to Bueáire?"

"No, of course not," Kane snorted, but he gave Maes a long, considering look. "Not that it's an issue with the border closed and us completely cut off, but don't forget the edict, Mustang. No expatriation; we can't take her out of Aerugo right now either."

"Understood, Sir," Maes nodded. They would deal with that hurdle when they came to it. He had already decided he wasn't leaving an old friend behind in a country with people who wanted her dead. "Permission to arrange quarters? If there's a price on her head, she'd be safer barracked with the rest of us."

"Go ahead," Kane waved one hand in the air. "But she's your responsibility, Mustang. I don't want any trouble, for us_ or _for her."

Maes relaxed. "I'll take care of her, Sir."

Kane's enigmatic smile was slightly disconcerting. "I'm sure you will, Firebrand."

Elena was sitting on the bench just outside the door when Maes came out of the office, her arms around herself as she sat silently. The tears were no longer running down her cheeks, but she looked miserable and lost.

Maes held out a hand, and smiled as she looked up at him. "Let's go get you cleaned up and find you something to eat," he offered softly. "Please don't mind, Kane. He's actually a really good guy. He was just being cautious."

Elena took his hand and stood. "Thank you, Maes," she said quietly and before Maes could react, she hugged him tightly. "I've been so scared. I haven't been able to trust_ anyone _to know who I am. I never thought I would find a friend out here."

Maes hugged her back, trying not to make it seem anything_ too_ friendly. She clung to him like a lifeline, and he wouldn't take advantage. "Well you're safe now. You've got thousands of Amestris' best between them and you, and I got permission for you to stay in a room here." He smiled at her surprised expression. "So you see, you're safe. Now how about we find you something clean to wear and food. You look half-starved."

"I haven't eaten in two days," Elena admitted then. "I didn't dare come into any towns, not with the military right there. Yes, please. I would definitely like something."

"Then let's go see what they have in the Mess," Maes replied gently. "Unless you would rather bathe first."

"Food first," Elena shook her head. "I'm not sure how much longer I can stay on my feet otherwise."

"Then I'd just have to carry you, wouldn't I?" Maes responded, the words coming without thought.

Elena seemed surprised by a lot this evening. A moment later though she smiled at him again, the light reaching her large brown eyes. "Perhaps I should faint now." Was she teasing him? He thought so.

Maes felt his face flush. Her arms around his chest felt good. Her eyes and her smile made his stomach flip, and not unpleasantly so. He eased up then and stepped back. "If that's your wish," he smiled back as calmly as he could manage, slipping into old mannerisms for his own comfort. She had known him in High School, as an innocent flirt and a gentleman. If he was lucky, she knew nothing of his more recent indiscretions.

They walked to the Mess together, with Elena keeping one hand lightly on his arm. If the contact made her feel more stable, more comfortable, than Maes certainly wasn't going to object! He waited while she ate her fill, and chuckled when she apologized for her manners. She had admitted she hadn't eaten in two days, and not all that regularly for weeks as she came further North. If she had been able to eat with good manners he would have been amazed. She was still far neater than most of the soldiers Maes knew.

Maes asked one of the off-duty female Privates to find some appropriate civilian clothes for Elena to wear and talk to the Lieutenant in charge of the Barracks assignments to see where a room was available, and by the time Elena was finished eating, the woman was back with a small armload of items and a key for a room on the same floor as Maes. He wondered briefly if Kane had had anything to do with that or if it was just a coincidence.

"I'm just down the hall," Maes told Elena as he dropped her off at her door. "Room four-oh-eight. If you need anything or…you want some company…" Suddenly he wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like dropping a girl off after a date, or any other experience he could find an equivalent to in his life so far. Every time he looked into her eyes, he found himself slightly flustered, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Elena chuckled, her arms full of clothing as she stood in the doorway. "I would like that," she smiled. "I know it's late but, if you are not ready to sleep I would like to talk when I no longer look like an orphan."

Maes chuckled. "No, I don't think I'll be sleeping for a while. Technically I should still be on the wall for another three hours. I should be thanking _you_ for getting me out of guard duty."

"You already have helped more than you think," Elena replied softly. "I will see you in a little while."

"Sure," Maes smiled as she closed the door behind her. He stood there for a moment, his mouth clamped shut on the words he hadn't had the nerve to say. _It's a date._ He didn't dare be that presumptuous, even though years ago he wouldn't have given it a second thought. He would just be glad for her company, for the pleasure of listening to her lilting accent as she spoke, and – he vowed silently – he _would _find a way to get her out of Aerugo safely. If she wanted to go to Central then he would take her there himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**June 18****th****, 1952**

Edward was sick of running into dead ends, traps, and muddling through with lousy or deliberate misinformation. They were losing too many men and this was taking too damned long! At this rate, they would never be in place in time to meet up with Armstrong and the others to take Bueáire.

"Are you sure we can trust this information?" Ed asked the Lieutenant who stood at attention in the command tent, uniform dirty from two days' scouting. An unguarded short cut would be just what they needed. A narrow pass, an obvious risk, but it would save them two days time off their original route and it wasn't used much because it led past an old burial ground that the locals claimed was haunted. Why they made that claim Ed didn't really care. All he wanted to know was if this wasn't a trap, because if not he really wanted to make use of what might be their first stroke of_ good_ luck in months!

"The pass is there," the Lieutenant replied. "I verified that for myself. I can't be sure where it comes out on the other side, but there was a graveyard. If there are soldiers out there, they are hiding."

"They're good at that though," Al sighed. There had been so many times they had thought they were alone out here that turned out not to be the case, that Ed didn't blame Al for being frustrated or cautious. What he didn't like was that lately Al seemed to be unwilling to consider the risks they might need to take to get out of this. "I don't think we should risk it. There's completely open farmland to the South of us that runs all the way down the river valley. We don't need to keep to the trees all the way down to Bueáire. It's just slowing us down and they're picking us off."

"No, Al." Ed frowned. This was not a new argument. Al had made this point before, and they had bickered back and forth about the pros and cons of both options. In the trees they had a _chance_ of staying hidden and having some protection. If they went out in the open – which they would have to do eventually either way – they lost that element of surprise and protection in exchange for ease of movement. It wasn't that Al's suggestion didn't make sense, it was the fact that the moment they opened themselves up like that, Ed was certain that they would find themselves dealing with larger forces that moved better in open terrain and weren't hampered by having to haul their badly injured along with them. If they went out into the open this far away from Bueáire, they would almost certainly hit a stalling point much further from the city.

"Well this pass has _trap _written all over it," Alphonse replied pointedly, tapping the map with one finger. "I mean look at this. Sure it doesn't look like a great spot for tunnels, not with the graveyards, but there's no way the Aerugeans don't know about it or have forgotten it's there. They could be moving their own troops through it for all we know. As you just pointed out, it's perfect for that."

"Fine." Ed tossed his hands in the air. "You want to do it your way Alphonse? Let's go take a look at the pass and you can prove me wrong. If it doesn't look completely safe, than we won't use it." He smirked when Al froze momentarily, obviously caught off guard by Ed's declaration.

"That doesn't sound like a good idea, Ed," Al replied.

"I knew you'd back down," Ed crossed his arms in front of his chest and shrugged. "Trust me, Al. It's not like I'm going to go lead all our men into a trap. I'll take a look and make an informed decision."

"I just said that wasn't a good idea." Al looked angry now, though as usual he was keeping a tight rein on his temper. "You always want to go in and risk yourself. We have scouts," he gestured to the one standing in the room, "who are perfectly capable of reporting back accurate information."

"No offense," Ed glanced at the poor Lieutenant who looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, "But I'd rather see for myself. We already know how tricky this land is, and the people who've trained out here. I'm not leading a single man into that pass until I'm satisfied that it's safe. So you can come, Al, or you can stay here. Either way I'm going."

"There's a decision I get to regret either way," Al sighed. "Let me tell Brewster we're going, and you had better not do anything foolish."

"Nothing more foolish than what you'll be doing," Ed couldn't help teasing just a little.

Al gave him a withering look. "That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

It was late afternoon when Ed and Al reached the pass in question. It was the fastest way through the last little spur of the mountains which had moved away toward the north, but made a sharp swing back down through the jungles cutting across their path by potentially several days' worth of marching before dying away completely. If they could cut that off, it saved time and effort for their tired men and might give them a reprieve.

They came at the pass cautiously, from on top of the hills, not being foolish enough to walk right down the path itself. Speed was sacrificed for stealth, despite the fact Ed would have liked to get this done with. He wasn't so rash as to risk the lives of anyone needlessly, or ask a soldier to do something he wouldn't do himself. So he took his time, and he and Al looked over as much of the trail as they could manage before it would be too late to get back to camp before dark.

The sun was getting low when they found the graveyard that had been mentioned. It was an old one for certain, wildly overgrown and a lot of the stones were so old that the names were worn into illegibility.

"So do you see anything that worries you?" Ed asked Al with a smirk as they turned to head back towards camp.

Al shook his head. "Not really," he admitted, shrugging as Ed walked a little ahead of him. "No signs of soldiers marching, not even scuffs in the dirt; just the markings of passing animals." If they hadn't seen _any_ signs of life, Ed would have been suspicious. The animals were as raucous as always – that being the sounds of insects and birds primarily.

A gun shot rang out, seeming to echo in the following silence. Almost simultaneously Al gasped and leaned over, grabbing his right arm with the opposite hand.

"Alphonse!" Ed spun quickly and saw blood seeping through Al's fingers. _Hell!_ As he turned to help, _pain _seared suddenly through his body like white hot metal, burning a hole so fast the agony radiated outward from a point he couldn't determine! The white expanded and filled his vision, then edged in black as he fell, watching the ground rise up to meet him almost in slow motion. Something told him to roll, but Ed couldn't feel his body responding. Somehow he hit on his side, the jarring sending_ shooting_ pain through him again.

The world was white hot, and while Ed could see the ground beneath him, he_ felt_ almost nothing else. He wanted to close his eyes, for the pain to leave, but only his instincts kept him moving. Ed forced his eyes open, made himself look for the wound. There _had _to be one, and he wasn't dead yet.

Yet? _Shit, oh shit!_ His body wailed and screamed, but for life as well as release from the pain! Ed's mind seemed to move a million miles a minute as he fought for survival.

Blood: that was the first thing that registered, and lots of it. The source, he discovered with an unfortunate hand, was his _stomach;_ or rather, a massive _hole_ in his abdomen if he wasn't hallucinating it!

_Bloody hell_. Ed was losing his focus fast. If he passed out he was dead, and so was Alphonse! He coughed and there was blood in the spit that came out, a sure sign that the shot had probably punctured an organ, or several. Now was_ not _the time to panic!

He couldn't die. If he died, Winry would _never _forgive him! His own stupidity would be his downfall. The great Fullmetal Alchemist the victim of his own ego and stubborn pride, like so many before him.

_Screw that!_ Ed knew of only one thing that might save him from choking to death on his own blood, but the alchemists he knew who could pull it off were hundreds – or thousands rather – of miles away. He had _never _been able to successfully manage healing alchemy. Not on the level Ethan could, or Mei Xian.

But what could it hurt? He was drifting, losing moments of consciousness, and he _didn't have time_. Ed drew in a deep breath, coughed again, and managed to force his hands together despite the poker-like searing in his side. Nah, this wasn't any worse than being tortured in a cell. No way. He gritted his teeth and brought his hands to the hole.

Somewhere in his head, Ed heard himself screaming as as much alchemical energy as he could draw on surged through him and remained there, in circulation, pouring into every possible space available and being focused with everything Ed had left into the circle of pain in his side.

Everything turned blue and white. He felt on fire and like the heart of an electric current all at once. Then there was a sudden surge, a flare that sent an agonized cry_ ripping_ from his throat… and everything went black.

* * *

Alphonse watched Ed fall to the ground in horror as the wound seemed to blossom out of his brother's side, a dark red bloom that sprayed with a terrible wet ripping sound. "Edward!" he stumbled on a tree root and couldn't reach him before Ed slammed hard into the ground, crying out unintelligibly. "Oh shit, Ed!" He dropped to his knees next to his brother's body. The next shots sailed over his head and only a small rise in the ground protected them both.

Ed grimaced, and groaned, and his eyes were open and staring, but Al didn't think he was actually _seeing _anything. Ed wheezed then coughed and blood splattered from his lips even as he sat up, and then fell back with a cry.

Al knew at once it was bad. A gut wound was a slow and painful way to die, and the bullet seemed to have punctured something or several _somethings_. "Don't move," Al commanded as he struggled to remove his jacket. He'd need the material to transmute something to staunch the blood flow, and fast!  
He didn't move fast enough. Ed's hands clenched together, and then there was a huge surge of alchemic energy coursing through Ed's body so strongly that Al felt the urge to physically move _backwards._ He fell sideways, catching himself on his injured arm and gasping as pain radiated from the wound.

Then as suddenly as the transmutation had begun the energy just…stopped, and Ed went completely limp. Al had no idea if anything had been accomplished, but it only took a moment to realize that Ed must have attempted the Xing healing technique that Ethan and he had learned. Al understood the theory, but had minimal practice in it. "Ed!" he made himself reach out, finally able to transmute his uniform jacket into a more useable-shaped piece of cloth. He did his best to bind the nasty wound in Ed's side. It wasn't a small, clean hole, but rather jagged, spilling blood, and Al hated to think what kind of ammunition made something like that!

Bile rose in his throat just looking at it. Al focused on Ed's face instead. "Ed can you hear me?" he felt for a pulse, refusing to admit to the possibility that Ed was dead without_ real_ proof.

A heartbeat…. barely. _Damn it. _Ed needed real medical attention _now_ or Al was going to lose him! Getting him back to camp under suppression fire was _not _exactly his idea of a good time. There was nothing for it but to carry him. Gritting his teeth, and having an ironic feeling of déjà vu, Al forced his injured right arm under Ed's knees, and his left up under his shoulders and gathered his older brother up in his arms. "I never wanted to do this again," he murmured aloud to himself as he struggled to his knees, ignoring the pain in his arm, and crouched as low as he could with Ed gathered to him. He half-slid down the hill, and then angled east, back towards the camp. It would probably take him at least half an hour to get back if he didn't want to be shot. All Al could hope was that Ed would_ last_ that long!

The feeling of déjà vu Al was something really could have done without, running as best he could, staggering toward relative safety with his brother bleeding to death in his arms – Al refused to believe Ed might already _be_ dead. Only the last time this happened Al hadn't had a body. He hadn't been bleeding himself, his arm aching from the pain as he held his brother's body to him. The smell of blood hadn't made him nauseous then. His throat was dry as he dragged air into his lungs and _kept moving._

The gunshots stopped after the first hundred yards, and Al briefly considered what it might mean that they weren't being pursued. It was a trap_ just _like he'd thought! Being right didn't make him feel better. Oh how Al _wished_ he had been wrong. He kept running, pushing himself until his breath came out in ragged gasps and he had a stitch in his side that throbbed. His arm was on fire, but carrying Ed actually seemed to staunch the blood flow even as it put further strain on Al's injured arm.

It took nearly half an hour to make it back to the camp. Al didn't slow down, but made his way directly to the medical tent. "Doctor Knox," he gasped when he saw the grizzled old man just inside the door.

Knox looked up sharply, scowling as he saw Al, and then Ed. "Come," was all he said as he turned and walked briskly towards the middle of the tent, where there was an area cordoned off for surgeries and critical patients. The only sign of surprise Al saw on the man's face was the slight raising of one eyebrow before he turned. But he had learned over the last few months that that was something.

Al followed, doing his best not to stumble, but he knew he was only in marginally better shape. He had no idea how bad the wound in his arm was other than the fact it hadn't killed him and he was pretty sure it was already clotting. At Knox's gesture, Al gently deposited Ed on one of the beds, then stepped back and got out of the way. He didn't leave though, just sat down on a stool near the end of the bed, his legs threatening to give way otherwise. His eyes never left his brother.

Doctor Knox moved in at once, grimacing as he cut away Ed's blood soaked shirt and the temporary bandage Al had rigged up. Al winced as that started blood flowing again, and had to turn his eyes away sharply when Knox started probing at Ed's injury – inside and out – with his gloved fingers. "What happened exactly?" Knox asked him then. Al swallowed and relayed the whole story. He was to the point where Ed had collapsed on the ground when another medic came in. "See to his arm," Knox commented to the man without looking up. "Go on, Alphonse. What happened after that?"

"Well, I bent down to see if Ed was alive and then he did some sort of transmutation on himself," Al replied, startling himself with the import of that statement. He had been so focused on getting back he had almost forgotten that. "I think he was trying a healing technique." But Ed wasn't very good with healing using alchemy.

"Ah, that explains it," Knox nodded.

"Explains what, Doctor?" Al asked, confused. He grimaced and gasped as the medic rolled up his shirt sleeve and started handling his arm.

"Why Edward isn't a corpse yet," Knox replied as he began cleaning the area around the wound. "Nurse!" He bellowed and a female medic poked her head into the room. "Antiseptic and sutures _now_."

"Yes Doctor," she nodded and vanished.

"Hold still please, sir," the medic tending Al's arm said, sounding apologetic. "The bullet's still lodged in your arm and I'm going to have to re-open this to pull it out."

"I understand," Al nodded, turning his attention back to Knox. "Are you saying the alchemy _worked_?" He couldn't imagine it, with the amount of blood Ed had lost, was _still_ losing.

"This shot hit Edward in the _back_," Knox replied. "Nasty ammunition; nice neat entry hole in the back – you'll note he's already stopped bleeding from that side – but it blows inside the body and comes out with a nasty gaping hole on the other side ripping through organs and anything else it hits going through the body."

Organs. Al felt weak. "Could you please get to the point, Doctor?" he asked softly, grimacing as the medic probed his arm and pain shot all the way up to his shoulder.

The nurse returned with the items Knox requested, and the doctor finished cleaning and disinfecting the wound before he responded. Al averted his eyes again when he started sewing the ragged flesh on the right side of Ed's abdomen closed again. It was too gruesome. "The placement of the hole," Knox finally continued. "This _should have_ effectively destroyed his intestines and right kidney, and possibly the bottom portion of his right lung, but despite the obvious exit wound, his organs look, frankly, textbook perfect."

So it had _worked. _Well wouldn't Ed be surprised when he woke up! "Is he going to make it?" Al asked then the question he dreaded the answer to most. There was a painful jerk at his arm and Al glanced at the medic and saw him holding a bullet.

"That remains to be seen," Knox's response was cool and businesslike. "Ask me again when I've got this canyon closed up. I will say this much," he added then in a slightly softer tone. "His vitals are weak, but steady. If the fool used as much energy healing his organs as you describe than either way it will be a slow recovery."

"You are familiar with healing alchemy?" Al looked surprised.

"I had a colleague in Ishbal," Knox replied. "He was an alchemist named Marcoh. We exchanged notes."

"We knew Doctor Marcoh," Al replied, momentarily forgetting his pain at the sound of the familiar name.

"All done," the medic surprised Al, who looked down and saw that his arm was bandaged where the wound was and there was a small bandage where he'd been stuck with a needle. "Antibiotics," the medic explained when he saw where Al's eyes had gone. "The last thing you need is an infected arm, unless you'd like one like your brother's."

"Thanks," Al smiled at the medic's joke, "But no thanks. We don't need to be that closely matched." He turned his attention back to Ed as the medic left, keeping his gaze focused on his brother's face. Ed looked pale and was far too still for Al's liking.

"I don't expect he'll return to consciousness for a couple of days," Knox continued as matter-of-factly as if he were talking about making a pie. His steady hands never stopped stitching. "I do expect fever with the high likelihood of infection with a wound like this. Until he's stable, it's risky to move him."

Al wasn't about to argue. "I should talk to Brewster about the situation." He went to stand up, but the world seemed to swim and he dropped back onto the stool.

"_You _won't be going anywhere for a bit either," Knox scowled at him. "You lost a decent amount of blood yourself and we need to see how your arm does. Go back to your tent or take a bed in here, but get some water in you and something to eat and _lie down_."

"Besides," Hal Brewster snorted as he pushed his way into the room, "You can always talk to me here. Damn it, Alphonse, what happened?"

"Talk outside," Knox pointed them toward the flap of canvas through which Brewster had just come. "You can help him to a bed," he pointed at the other General.

Neither Al nor Brewster argued as Al willingly leaned on the other man and made his way out into the regular area of the medical tent. He took the closest empty bed to where Knox was working on Ed and kicked off his boots before lying down on his back until the world stopped spinning. "It was an ambush," he summed it up shortly for Brewster. "They had soldiers waiting up near the old graveyard. Snipers probably. We're lucky they didn't kill us both right off."

"How many shooters?" Brewster frowned as he waved a Private over and ordered food and drink for Al.

"Two, guessing from the angle the shots came from and how fast they were coming," Al replied. Now that he was calming down his mind was starting to analyze what had happened, and it was less painful than thinking about Ed lying on the other side of the canvas wall getting his insides put back together. "That and the shell that hit me didn't do the kind of damage the other one did to Ed. Definitely a hollow point on his." A sniper rifle and a submachine gun were a tricky pairing giving the disparity in functional distances, but apparently the enemy made it work with reasonable effectiveness.

"I saw," Brewster nodded, looking a little ashen. "Pretty gruesome. I'm amazed he's alive. Glad of course," he added, "But amazed."

"Alchemy," Al replied as a nurse came over with water. He sat up slowly and took the glass with his left hand, draining it then handing it back to be refilled. "There's a technique they have in Xing for actually healing bodies, but it takes a lot of alchemical energy, and it's not intuitive to the way we learn alchemy in Amestris. Even so it's not easy to master."

"I take it Edward's pretty good with it then?" Brewster commented.

Al snorted a small laugh. "Actually, he's terrible. Normally he can barely heal a paper cut, but I watched him do it, and Knox just said all his organs are fine."

"Well that's a relief," Brewster sighed, wiping his forehead with one hand. "It's amazing what a guy can do in a life or death situation isn't it?"

That was putting it mildly. Al smirked and drained another glass of water. He hoped food came soon because now he was starting to feel a gnawing hunger. With the adrenaline draining from him, all that was left was exhaustion. "Ed's going to be stunned," he agreed with a small smirk that didn't last long. "We're going to have to figure out what to do now. That pass isn't safe. We have to move out into open farmland soon."

"I agree," Brewster nodded. "If we don't get out of these trees we're sitting targets. Not that we have much choice since we can't use the pass." It seemed that their decision was made for them.

"But when?" Al asked as he spotted the Private hurrying back with a tray from the Mess tent. It was dinner time and there was a full meal on the plate. "It may be days before we can move." Unless they were willing to risk Ed. Al knew that in war the needs of the entire army technically outweighed the needs of one man, but what if that one man was the commanding General? What if that man was the Fullmetal Alchemist, hero of the people? What if that man…was his brother? He asked Brewster mostly because that was a call Al didn't feel he could make. "Whatever you think, I'll go with," he said then. "I'm more than a little biased." The Private set the tray down and left, and Al dug into the beef hash and mashed potatoes.

Brewster shrugged and smirked slightly. "Then so is the whole army. All I heard on the way here was concern after the way you came tearing through camp. It was a pretty dramatic return you know." He poured himself a glass of water. "Right now I think you'll find if we _bothered_ to vote on it most of the men would insist on staying put if it meant moving on without Ed or possibly killing him."

Al supposed he ought to be surprised, but that sounded right to him. That was Ed's way. As pushy, bad tempered, and bossy as he was, people appreciated that he got things done and helped people. On this trip, Al knew that their actions had inspired the loyalty of their men. As had happened up near Drachma, and with the alchemists of Amestris, and with those who knew him in Central, Ed wasn't just the Fullmetal Alchemist, or a General, he was something much more real – an honest to god hero who was obviously just a person to anyone who knew him. "So we move when we can move."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Brewster smiled knowingly. "If they want us, this isn't a bad place to sit defensively, and if we don't make a sudden run in the other direction hopefully we can keep the enemy guessing as to what we'll do next and when."

"I like that idea," Al nodded. It gave them time to consider strategy without the rush of panic, and a much needed rest for all the soldiers really, as well as giving Ed time to recover a little. Al had no illusions that Ed would be in any position to command soon, but he would at least like Ed stable enough to be _moved. _Al focused on eating for a couple of minutes when Brewster didn't seem inclined to push the conversation. That was the critical decision that had to be made now."I guess you're in charge for a bit," he smiled at Brewster when he finished. "Think you can handle it?"

Brewster chuckled. "We've already got defenses on the perimeter and rotations for guard duties set up. I'll see about extending them and making sure we know if the enemy heads our direction first. I'm sure the rest of the alchemists will be glad to get in some honest work," he teased. "I wouldn't be much use to you if I couldn't handle that much. Take a break, Al. You don't look _that_ much better than Edward at the moment."

"Gee, thanks," Al sighed and lay back down on his back. A little more hydrated, and stomach full, his exhaustion was catching him quickly. "I was hoping to stay up until Knox finished with Ed. I'm worried."

"I'll make sure someone wakes you as soon as there's word," Brewster promised. "Just relax. If Knox really thought Ed was a goner he would have just told you outright wouldn't he?"

"Yeah, he would." Al closed his eyes, finding it amusing as he drifted off that the thought was actually comforting. _Please, just let Ed be all right._

**June 19th-22****nd****, 1952**

The next four days were agony for Alphonse. The first evening he slept soundly for three hours before a nurse woke him to let him know that Knox had finished putting Ed back together and that, while Ed was still unconscious, his vitals were steady and growing stronger. Al dragged himself off the bed, ignoring his own pain as much as he could, and went in to see Ed.

His brother looked even smaller than usual, tucked into bed and so pale he was almost as white as the sheets. He was so hot he was beyond sweating too, the expected fever raging as his body struggled to heal and battle infection. Knox seemed relatively unconcerned and assured Al that Ed was doing just what he ought to be given his condition.

Al slept that night in the medical tent, unwilling to be farther than shouting distance from his brother in case something happened. Doctor Knox actually approved of that, since it allowed him to make sure the medical staff could keep an eye on_ Al _as well. He moved around enough that they finally forced him to keep his arm in a sling, and he was required to lie down. He was out again fairly quickly; reassured that Ed was all right for the time being.

The next day was not nearly so restful. Up early, Al checked on Ed first thing and then made himself leave the tent long enough to meet with Brewster and discuss the situation with a clearer head. Not a lot changed, but both Generals looked over the schedules and their current supply lists and decided that they could safely stay in their current position for a couple of days. It was one of the better defensible camping spots they had found in weeks really, and Al felt they were lucky for that.

Ed did not awaken that day; at least, not to consciousness that Al could tell. Al sat by Ed's bedside for several hours, replacing the cold cloth that pulled heat from Ed's head when it dried and resting the way Knox kept hassling him to. All of Al's attention was focused on Ed though. His brother had always been an active sleeper; his stillness was worrisome. Ed dreamed sometimes, and Al heard his own name whispered once or twice, and Winry's. The nightmares came occasionally too, but when Ed twitched too much he whimpered in pain and fell still again quickly.

Not much changed for the next three days. Ed continued to sleep - alternating deeply and fitfully – but never opened his eyes. His fever was high, dropping some after the second day but without breaking. Knox continued to seem, well not_ pleased _with Ed's improvement, but sure that Ed _was_ actually doing better.

Al waited, watched, rested, and gave orders as necessary. The entire Division knew what had happened. The news had spread like wildfire and, while most of the lower officers and enlisted men weren't so bold, every State Alchemist in the bunch came by the tent to check up on Ed and Al personally. Al was touched. Matthias Wood spent a couple of hours each day sitting with Al, just talking, and it made Al feel reassured. They didn't talk about the war, or injuries, but home and family. Matthias' son and daughter were thirteen and ten, younger than Will and Alyse, but Al remembered those ages as if they were yesterday. They had plenty of stories to swap about their kids, their wives, and their common interests. Matthias handled most of the special directions Al gave the alchemists personally. Al made notes in his reports in that regard. When they got back, the man had more than earned a promotion in his mind.

It was mid-morning on the fourth day, the day they would have to send in their next report to back to Central, that Ed's fever finally broke. Knox examined Ed and declared that it was probably safe to risk moving him at this point. It certainly wouldn't do any_ further_ damage.

* * *

The dim fuzz resolved itself into a mostly solid sheet of familiar gray-green canvas. Well that was an unwelcome return to reality. Under that color, he must be in the medical tent. How had he gotten here? The last… however long it had been, was a blur of pain and heat. The mass of agony in his side throbbed dully, only spiking when he tried to roll. _Okay, bad idea._ Edward groaned softly and lay still.

A face appeared; Alphonse. Thank goodness he was alive. "Ed! You're awake," he smiled, and Ed felt a cold cloth brush across his sweaty forehead. "Your fever's broken. How do you feel?"

_Lousy, thanks for asking. _Ed opened his mouth, but all that came out was a dry croak.

Al smiled anyway, obviously relieved. Ed noticed his brother's arm was in a sling and felt a twinge of guilt. "Drink this," Al held a glass to Ed's lips and tilted it gently.

Ed eagerly drained the glass. It took much longer than he wanted, lying almost flat on his back with only a couple of pillows tilting his head, but it tasted better to him than sweet tea. "Thanks," he finally managed to say.

"No problem," Al grinned. "That's a lot easier when you're conscious. You should try and get some real sleep though, Brother. You'll heal up faster."

Not that he wanted to argue. Ed felt himself slipping off again already. Sleep. Yeah, sleep sounded really good right now.

* * *

"We move back out tomorrow," Alphonse told Brewster a little later in the day in the command tent as they looked at the map. "If we take this route we'll be in a good defensible position in two days in case we need to stop again. If not, we can push on into the farm land." Really, Al preferred that option. Open land meant traditional warfare tactics, and the use of more traditional alchemical defenses. That was what the men were _trained_ for, and Al much preferred an honest fight and more straightforward battle to the hide-and-go-shoot game they had been playing in the jungles for months.

"Finally," Brewster nodded, looking relieved. "Let's show these bastards what we're really capable of when they can't skulk in the shadows and pick us off." Al knew he hadn't really liked their tactical strategy either, but sometimes arguing with Edward was like arguing with a brick wall; especially when neither strategy was technically unsound. It was a matter of preference, and if Al was in charge, he was going to lead this army_ his_ way.

Putting it like that terrified him though if Al thought about it too much. He was now technically _in charge_ of the entire Division according to the official standings, though Brewster had more combat command experience. Al was grateful that the other man was here, and that so far he found all of Al's decisions sound. "There's just one thing I want to do before we leave," Al added as he rolled up the map. "I'm going to blow the end of that pass so they can't come around behind us." If they got caught between two forces, the losses would be terrible.

The government in Bueáire certainly knew they were here. It was time to come out of hiding.


	14. Chapter 14

**June 22****nd****, 1952**

Elicia was in a good mood as she walked over to Rockbell Auto-mail that afternoon. She had left the office a little early. She and Winry were doing their girls' night out tonight. It was something they did regularly now. It helped them both keep their sanity. Lately, reports from the Eastern Division had been shorter, more scattered, and despite her positive outlook, Elicia worried. Alyse, Will, and Ethan were all at her place this evening working on various things. Ethan and Will were working out something with alchemy, and Alyse – despite it being summer – was already hard at work on preparing for fall school social activities. She took that work seriously and had been voted Class President for the incoming year. She would also be _chairing_ the school Social Committee, and she was also going to be co-captain of the girls' volleyball team.

Elicia wished she could write Alphonse about all of these things, but perhaps it was for the better right now. He would probably panic if he knew that Alyse had also been out on several dates during the school year and this summer.

The Shop was busy as always in the late afternoon. Over the years Rockbell Auto-mail had grown tremendously in production as well as sales. Winry insisted on the quality of every piece still though, and nothing left the shop without her express approval. Elicia was just as proud of how much the company had grown. Winry had had a number of apprentices over the years, and currently had five auto-mail mechanics working for her directly just to keep up with business. Elicia still helped with the books even though she rarely had the time to actually work with auto-mail anymore. As Winry's original apprentice though, she took pride in seeing her best friend and sister so successful.

There were three customers in the front being helped when Elicia ducked around and came in through the back. "Hey, Laurence," she waved at one of Winry's mechanics who was making adjustments to a leg. "Where's Winry?"

"In the _fitting room _with a customer_,_" Laurence chuckled, white teeth flashing in his otherwise darkly tanned face. Fitting room was the term they jokingly used to refer to the sterile room in which all auto-mail was removed, attached, and maintained while still on a customer. "She should be out in a minute."

"How's Helene?" Elicia asked conversationally while they waited. Laurence had worked for Winry for several years now, and even been the occupant of the upstairs apartment until he had gotten married a few years back. Sara had occupied the place just afterwards.

"An angel as always," Laurence chuckled without pausing in his work. "Now that Oren's old enough for preschool she's looking forward to getting back to her work at the Museum full time." Helene helped design and coordinate exhibits at Central's biggest Art and History Museum, though she had been home a lot more with their son.

Elicia knew how that was! "I'm glad to hear it," she smiled.

The door from the front of the shop opened and Winry breezed through, obviously in business mode, but smiling. That was good. Elicia hadn't seen her smile a lot lately. "Hi, Elicia," Winry caught sight of her immediately. "I'll be ready in just a couple of minutes. I've got a couple of calls I need to make and then I'm done." As she headed for the phone it rang almost underneath her hand. Winry chuckled and picked it up. "Rockbell Auto-Mail, Prosthetic Limb Outfitters. Winry speaking."

* * *

"Winry, it's Breda."

Winry jerked up, her bright mood replaced with concern. What was _Breda _doing calling her at work in the middle of the afternoon? "Hi. What's going on? Have you heard something?"

The quiet on the other end of the line for a moment was more nerve-wracking than she could have imagined. "We just got a report in," Breda finally said. He sounded tired and upset. "Edward and Alphonse have both been shot."

"What?" The word came out as a squeak and Winry felt like she might lose her footing on steady ground. She definitely felt light headed. "What do you mean? Oh God!" Were they dead?

"They're alive," Breda replied immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this. Al's got a hole in his arm, but he's all right otherwise it seems. He's the one who made the report."

"What about _Edward_?" Winry thought she might wring the phone if her hand tightened any more on the receiver.

Breda hesitated again. "It's a critical abdominal wound. They were ambushed a few days ago."

For a moment Winry stopped breathing. It was one of her worst nightmares come true. At least Edward was alive… for however long he could hold out. "How bad?"

"I'm sorry," Breda apologized again. "That's all we know right now. I'll let you know as soon as we hear anything else."

"Of course," Winry replied automatically. Her mind was filled with horrible images and fear and sorrow welled up until she thought she might burst. "Thank you for calling."

"Have you seen Elicia?" Breda asked then. "She left the office already, and I need to let her know too."

"She's here," Winry replied softly. "I'll let her know." She hung up the phone then, and leaned against the wall to keep herself from collapsing. _Edward. _Tears leaked from her eyes.

"Winry?" Elicia's hand touched her shoulder. "Winry, what happened?"

Winry looked up into Elicia's worried face, realizing that Elicia had heard nothing particularly informative. "The boys," she managed. "They've been injured."

Elicia's face went ashen. "Alphonse?"

"Shot in the arm," Winry replied, trying to make her voice not waiver so badly. "He's the one who sent the report."

Elicia bit her lip, trying not to cry herself. "And Edward?"

"It's a…gut wound." Winry didn't want to break down right here in the middle of the shop. Ed wasn't _dead_. Not yet anyway, but she knew too much not to know how serious this was. "A bad one. That's all Al told them. Damn it!"

"Let's go back to your place," Elicia suggested softly. "I don't think I feel much like going out anymore."

"That's all right," Winry agreed. "Neither do I."

They took Winry's car back to the house. With the kids over at Elicia's, they would have a little time to absorb the news before they had to tell them that both of their fathers had been injured in the same incident.

"It wouldn't surprise me if they were doing something reckless," Winry commented, as angry as she was worried, as they pulled up to the house. She got out and opened the house door. "It was probably Ed's fault too."

"We can't know," Elicia responded, following her inside.

"That's just how it almost always is," Winry pointed out. "There's a historical precedent for it."

"That's true," Elicia sighed, pausing to pet Bounce then heading into the kitchen. "Tea? Coffee? Wine and ice cream?"

Winry couldn't help but smile slightly despite the tears that kept welling. She forced them down again. It wouldn't do any good to start bawling when Ed and Al were both alive. "I'll have whatever you're having," she replied, starting to follow Elicia.

The phone rang.

Almost afraid to pick it up, Winry went to the phone instead. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mom," Aldon's cheerful voice came across the line. "It's just me with your weekly dose of news from Resembool."

"Oh, hi Sweetie," she replied. Winry had forgotten it was about the time Aldon usually called during the week. With Sara and Edward and Alphonse all in danger's way and completely out of contact at the moment he called regularly with stories about Coran and just to talk. The toddler stories always cheered up Winry's mood, as did the news that had come a couple of months before that Cassie was pregnant again, due in November. "So don't keep me in suspense," she tried to keep her tone light. "How's Cassie?"

"Big as a house," Aldon replied proudly. "Oww, hey it's the truth!" On the other end Winry could hear Cassie laughing. "All right," Aldon amended a few seconds later, "Half a house. I stand corrected."

Winry chuckled a little. Cassie _was_ five months pregnant. "And Coran?"

"Other than the fact he's started climbing on everything?" Aldon chuckled. "This week he decided his favorite activity was trying to help me with my work. He's got a pretty good swing with a hammer."

"You _let_ him play with your tools?" Winry asked.

"No. That's why they're all up a few drawers higher now," Aldon sounded mildly contrite. "And there's a lock on my workshop door. He's figured out knobs as well."

Winry remembered well those days in their house. Aldon had been much the same way, and Ethan had been into _everything._ Okay, so he still was. Everything had been happier then, more peaceful. All three kids at home, Edward home safe and sound…

"Mom?" Her momentary quiet had apparently caught her son's notice. "Mom is something wrong?"

Winry sighed. "I just got word from President Breda, personally. Your father and Al were both shot a few days ago. They're alive," she wanted to get that in quickly, "And Al's not too bad but…"

"It'll be all right, Mom," Aldon replied softly after several stunned moments. "Dad's too stubborn to let that keep him down long."

That was Aldon, always reassuring others. "I'm sure you're right," Winry replied half-heartedly. "I just hope he rests up properly. You know how he is."

"Yeah, I do," Aldon replied. "Are_ you_ all right?"

"I'll be okay," Winry said. "Elicia's here. Ethan's over with Will and Alyse. Still no word from Sara." She really wished there were news from that front now even more than before. At least reports were getting through by radio, and she was sure she would have heard if anything had happened to her daughter, but she missed the reassurance of letters.

"It can't last forever," Aldon assured her. "I'll let you go then. Love you, Mom."

"How's Resembool?" Elicia asked as Winry turned around to find her already pouring coffee. There were big bowls of ice cream on the table. "I compromised," she smiled.

"Everything's fine," Winry replied and chuckled at the comment. _Everything's fine._ Maybe if she just kept telling herself that enough, she would believe it. Maybe it would actually be true. For now, all she could do was hope and wait for better news.

**June 22****nd****, 1952**

It was good to finally be off duty for the day and not have night shift. Maes was tired of those shifts and the reprieve was welcome. Being off also meant time to enjoy as he wished and, lately, that time always seemed to involve Elena. Being a familiar face, he guessed that she just naturally sought out his company. She was helping out as she could, but not being military she did not have assigned shifts and she always seemed to be available when he wasn't working. Maes enjoyed their time together. It was relaxing and pleasant. Being around her made the world outside seem to take a step back for a little while and leave him alone.

Tonight they were sitting in his room on the bed, backs up against the headboard. To Maes' pleasure and enjoyment she was snuggled up against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. And yet, the most he dared do was leave his arm lightly around her shoulders. She always seemed to find comfort in it though.

"So that's the whole story," Maes admitted as he finished the hour long tale. "I'm not particular proud of a lot of that." While she hadn't asked directly, she had shared enough of her own recent past that he felt it was only fair in catching up to be truly honest.

"We all do things we aren't proud of Maes," Elena looked up at him with a soft expression in her dark eyes. "You were hurting. But you know," she smiled, "I like that you are not afraid to feel your emotions, or to admit them. There's nothing wrong with being a passionate person."

"There is when you over react," Maes sighed, but he smiled. She surprised him often with the depth of her understanding, and this was just one more time in the past month that she had done so. "Though I like to think I've made amends for it now."

"Sara Elric is still your close friend, you still have your family, and you did not lose your position in the military. I would say you atoned well enough to deserve that," Elena replied. "Or other people think you did. Though," she admitted. "I find it sad that you haven't found someone else."

Maes looked down at her and his stomach flipped. It did that a lot around her, and he had tried manfully to ignore it, but it was hard with her hand resting on his chest. At least he had his clothes on. "I feel the same way about you," he said, though he wanted to hit himself a second later. _Smooth move. _Telling a girl she should have moved on after someone killed her fiancé?

To his surprise and relief, Elena chuckled. "Marco was a lot like you," she rested her head on his shoulder again. "I think that's part of why I liked him so much. He was passionate about his work, about his interests, and about me…"

Maes flushed. "I see." What else could he say?

Elena blushed slightly, apparently realizing how it sounded. "I mean he was devoted," she replied. Damn she was _pretty_ when she was flustered. Okay so she was pretty all the time. "We were never intimate."

"So you like spending time with me because I'm like him?" Maes asked, smiling to try and let her know he wasn't offended. He was certain she meant it to be a compliment.

She was still flushed. "Actually, it was the other way around. Like every other girl in our school, I found you attractive, charming, and we had some very nice conversations as I recall. But it was clear you weren't looking for a serious girlfriend, and while I knew you had kissed other girls, you never tried with me so I never pressed."

And he had been too wrapped up in Sara to do more than flirt, and showing_ other _girls a good time too often and missed her real interest. Maes tried to resist the urge that came over him, but with their faces so close together… "Would you object… if I kissed you_ now_?"

A smile spread across Elena's face. "Yes," she replied before pressing her lips to his. "I want to kiss you first."

**June 23****rd****-27****th****, 1952 **

The Eastern Division made its way around the last spur of the mountains at a relatively good pace. While it wasn't fast by general marching standards it was a lot faster than they had been moving in the jungle and, for the most part, everyone's spirits rose as they made good time and had the luxury of not being shot at. Out in the open any enemy who wanted to hit them was going to have to come out. They stayed out of range reach of the trees as much as possible and, within a couple of days, hit a real road.

At an abandoned farm just a couple of days out they appropriated a couple of wheeled high-walled carts and horses and a couple of flat-bed low walled trucks. They padded the carts and trucks and put the injured that couldn't walk on their own into them, freeing up the soldiers who had been used for hauling stretchers. Their speed picked up considerably at that point.

Camps at night were relatively quiet, but much less strained than they had been, and Al began to feel better about the decision he had made. It definitely seemed to be the right one.

* * *

The real world was one of discomfort and guilt. Ed began to come awake more often after the first time, but he still spent most of his time sleeping. It was harder to do on a stretcher or in one of the trucks, because the occasional jostling was agonizing. Still, Ed was glad Knox hadn't attempted to administer heavy painkillers. His mind conjured up enough bizarre images in his sleep without them. Most of the time being awake meant being too drowsy to do more than see who was keeping watch over him, get a drink, maybe eat something if it was offered, and try and communicate. There was little information shared about where they were or what they were doing. Knox had ordered that he was to _rest _only. Ed was getting really sick of bedpans too, but he couldn't get up and down on his own. As it was, being carried in and out of the card was a painful experience through which Ed refused to scream or cry out. He kept telling himself he had been through worse.

The first evening that he woke up and felt truly coherent Ed had no clue how many days they had been traveling. He was back in one of the field hospital beds and had apparently been there long enough that his abdomen had dulled to the usual throbbing.

"I think you're up for some solid food today," Doctor Knox commented with his usual lack-of-greeting brusque arrival. "What do you think?"

"As if you need to ask," Ed smirked. He wished his voice sounded a little more robust. It was annoying that he was still so drained. The aftermath, he assumed, of attempting alchemy of that magnitude on top of nearly dying from the wound and blood loss. Not that Knox had been particularly forthcoming with the details either. Ed kept asking questions, and no one was answering them. "Does that mean I'm up for some real information too?"

"Depends on what you want to know," Knox replied as he pulled back the sheets and removed the bandaging from around Ed's waist to take a look at his injury.

It was the first time Ed had been conscious for this part, so he made himself watch as the bandages came away, and winced at the bizarre twisted shape of the scar to the right of his belly button. It stood out a bold, angry pink against the paler skin of his stomach. "That really was messy wasn't it?" he commented.

"You're not easy to sew up," Knox agreed as he gently probed the area with clean hands. "How does that feel?"

Ed winced. "Painful," he replied shortly. "But mostly on the surface," he added more helpfully after a minute. There was the entry wound on his back that hurt, though not as much as the front. Surprisingly, his insides didn't feel that bad at all. "How bad's the internal damage?" he made himself ask.

For once, Knox actually looked mildly startled. "It seems your brother_ can _keep his mouth shut when I tell him not to talk to you about something."

"What do you mean?" For a moment, Ed almost panicked. What didn't Knox want Al telling him?

"You got hit with a hollow point bullet at less than a hundred meters," Knox explained calmly, continuing his word. He swabbed the lines along the sutures, and they stung from the cleaning alcohol. "By all accounts and the laws of science you _should _have had nothing left of your intestines and a kidney than a mess of ruined flesh."

Ed scowled. "Obviously that's not the case. I'm still here." Put like that, did his last ditch attempt at Xing healing _work?_ "Did _I _fix that?" he asked incredulously.

"That's the account Alphonse gave me," Knox shrugged. "You certainly wasted a lot of alchemical energy otherwise," he pointed out then.

_It worked. Well, how about that?_ Ed was awed for a moment. Then he chuckled as the amusement of the situation hit him. "Years of trying to heal even the smallest cuts, and the only thing that gets me to a mental place where I can let go and do it the way it's _supposed_ to be done is do-or-die, literally."

"Ironic huh?" Alphonse commented as he came into the room and stepped into Ed's field of view. His arm, Ed noted, was no longer up in a sling, though the thicker bulge of bandages were still apparent under his shirt sleeve.. Apparently his brother was healing a lot faster than he was. "You had me scared half to death, but that's one to tell Ethan when you get home," he grinned.

"Guess so," Ed chuckled then grimaced as his stomach muscles bunched. "Damn it. I hate this."

"I'd be concerned if you enjoyed it," Knox quipped. "Though from your record these kinds of situations don't seem overly uncommon."

"Usually it's not this dire," Al came to Ed's defense. He looked at Ed's stomach and chuckled. "Hey, Ed, that kind of looks like the Crest. You should get a tattoo over it when it heals."

"Ha ha, very funny," Ed rolled his eyes and mimicked taking a swing at Al. All that really happened was his left arm moved up off the bed for a moment and he flapped his hand in the air, but the point was clear. "Just what I need: more needles."

"I'm kidding," Al smiled. "Actually I came to see what you wanted for dinner. The Mess is waiting on your order."

Now if only there was a real menu. "I'll take whatever they have lots of that's filling and edible," Ed replied without a moment's hesitation. "I don't suppose we've eaten that damned llama yet?"

Al shook his head. "No, Cash is still with us. Leave him alone. He's been hauling your pack on top of his usual load for the last several days and _he_ doesn't complain."

"Don't tell me you'd rather have the llama than your own brother," Ed snorted.

Al smirked as he turned and stepped out of view. "He _is _a much more agreeable conversationalist!"

Ed hissed as his muscles twinged again and he made himself lie still and relax his body while Knox finished the examination, then re-bandaged Ed's side. "It looks good," Knox said, pulling the sheet back up. "No infection and the skin has closed over the one area that still needed it."

The idea that part of him had been completely missing made Ed feel a little queasy. It was more the fact that it was from the middle than anything else. After all, he was used to having two mechanical limbs.

His auto-mail; Ed hadn't even thought about it in days. Ed moved his right arm and examined the hand and the parts of the arm he could see from his limited position. There were a couple of dents he didn't remember, and a few he did. At least two of them looked like bullets that had hit and ricocheted. The movement in the wrist was a little stiff and there was a slight noise in one of the motors. If Winry were here she'd have thrown a fit even though Ed considered them to be minor issues.

Winry. Suddenly there was a surge of fear that Ed had to push down. "Where… there was a photo, in the pocket of my uniform. Where is it?"

Knox gave him a flat look that softened just a little when he caught the worry in Ed's eyes. "I took it out of the pocket," he nodded, turning and picking something up off the bedside table. "Alphonse insisted I keep it with you." He handed it over then stepped out of the canvas room, leaving Ed alone.

The picture was bent now, and a spot of blood stained a corner, but it remained in one piece. While he waited for Al to return with food, Ed's eyes wandered over every familiar line of every face. It had been taken on their trip last summer, just about a full year ago now he realized with a pang. A picture of everyone who currently shared the Elric name; it made his heart ache to see it now. Ed sat on the couch in the Curtis house, sandwiched between Winry and Alphonse. Winry was cuddled into his side, her beautiful face beaming, with Ed's auto-mail arm tightly around her waist. Al had his arm around Elicia's shoulders, and all the kids were scattered around the couch. Sara, Aldon, Cassie, and Will stood behind the couch, and Aldon held Coran so he was 'seated' on the back right by Ed's head. The baby looked at the camera curiously. Alyse and Ethan were at their parents' feet. Everyone was smiling.

It seemed like such a long time ago.

Ed's gaze kept moving back to Winry. He missed her. It was more unbearable than it had ever been on other missions. Things had changed at some point, and he still didn't know why or how. That beaming smile was one he hadn't seen much since then, and now it was eight months since he had seen her at all, or heard her voice. Not a word had they been able to exchange through letters. The last time he had been apart from her this long had been the last seven years in Europe. Ed wasn't good at separation anymore.

His vision blurred, and it took Ed several seconds to realize he wasn't losing consciousness or having eye problems. His eyes were damp when he wiped his hand across his face.

"Are you all right?" Al was back. He was carrying a full tray with dinner for the both of them. Ed's mouth started watering immediately at the smell of fresh meat and vegetables. It didn't smell heavily spiced, but that was all right.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Ed lied, lowering his hand, letting the picture rest on his chest. "I just miss home."

"I can agree with that sentiment," Al nodded, setting the tray down on the bedside stand then coming around and helping Ed sit up enough that he could be propped up to eat. "I dream about home all the time. When we get back, let's never leave again."

"If we can," Ed sighed when he was settled back into place. Starvation was overcoming his reemerging concerns about Winry and the homesickness that had threatened to overwhelm him. Food was more immediate. Days of broth and plain oatmeal had done little to assuage his insatiable appetite. "Tell me that's all mine," he said, looking hungrily at the platter.

"Half of it," Al replied with a knowing snort. "Doctor Knox said you can have more after he's sure you can digest it properly."

"I don't want to wait and _digest properly_," Ed couldn't help sulking. "I want to stuff myself until I can't eat another bite and my stomach stops trying to eat the rest of my insides."

"You'll be sorry if you get a bellyache on top of that injury," Al pointed out all too sensibly.

Ed didn't _want_ to hear sensible. He sighed. "Fine. We'll do it his way."

"Good for you, Ed," Al chuckled, holding out the plate so it wouldn't rest on Ed and offering Ed the fork. "Dig in."

Ed devoured the entire meal in minutes and, while it didn't completely fill him up, it did take away the worst of his hunger. He didn't want to admit it to Al, but given how sore the muscles in his midsection were, filling his stomach probably wouldn't have been the best idea. "Thanks," he said afterwards with a little more humility. It was kind of embarrassing to be unable to hold his own plate and eat off it, and it reminded him that even if his spirit was in full strength, his body was far from it. "I'm sorry, Al. You were right the whole time."

"It's okay," Al shrugged. "Just call it a lesson learned and listen to me next time all right?"

Ed nodded his head, his reply delayed by a jaw-cracking yawn. "You got it."

* * *

They made it six days' travel before they ran into the main force of the Aerugean army that they had been expecting. Al and Brewster had been waiting for it to come, and the entire Division was prepared for that eventuality. As soon as they spotted the enemy on the horizon – fortunately in the flatter land of the fertile farming that extended miles from the Ama that was a view of miles downriver as well – they immediately began pitching camp and entrenched. With the convenience of alchemists, they had protective barriers up within half an hour, and the entire camp was set up in one. Soldiers lined the barrier in ranks and prepared for traditional combat with an excitement in the air that made it clear they were looking forward to_ honest _combat.

By nightfall the enemy had pitched their camp out of range, but Al knew they were preparing for an assault. He wondered briefly if they had any trained alchemists. Amestris had been using them for decades. Surely by now they weren't the only country – other than Xing – who regularly made use of their alchemists.

In the next couple of days, there would be a face off. Al knew it. He and Brewster spent hours discussing strategies, until they were both sure they had contingency plans for their contingencies' contingencies. After the meeting, his head stuffed full, Al wandered down to the medical tent, which was pitched in the middle of camp, not too far from his own tent. It was after dinner, and he found that – as happened most of the time still – Ed was deep in sleep when he stopped by.

He was glad his brother was lucid now when he was awake, though it meant keeping him quiet was more difficult. Still, Ed was more agreeable than usual, and Al wasn't sure if it was because of the pain, the exhaustion, or something that Ed wasn't saying on top of both of those things. His brother seemed a little withdrawn, and Al suspected it had to do with how close Ed had come to breaking his promise to Winry. Ed _always_ came back. The night before he had asked Al, "Please, just don't tell Winry." Al had had no choice but to admit they had already called in to Central with the most recent report, which meant that Winry – and all of their families – almost certainly already knew about both of their injuries.

"In the next report, do you want to send Winry a message?" Al had offered. "Just something to let her know you're all right?"

"No," Ed had shaken his head firmly. "I think that ambush wasn't planned to take out just anyone. I'm predictable aren't I?" He didn't want for Al to respond before continuing. "And that's not typical military ammunition. That was a real set-up job someone did. If they're listening in on our transmissions like any half-trained military should, they know I'm hurt but still living. I don't want them to know anything more than I let them."

Al thought about that conversation as he wandered through the camp. It was a dry night, and the stars above them – hidden by trees for weeks – were a welcome sight. Ed's words made sense. It was a logical argument, but something about it bugged him. It was possible to send a message in code or something vague that wouldn't mean much to anyone else. He knew Ed was probably still worrying about Winry, and there was nothing he could do if Ed was being stubborn. While he was injured, Al didn't want to press him too much. If Ed lost his temper he wouldn't do himself any good, and might actually do himself further injury.

"Evening, True Soul," a familiar voice spoke up from below him and off to his right. Al looked down, and was unsurprised to see Matthias Wood sitting in front of a campfire with several other alchemists. Matthias gestured towards the ground beside him. "Care to join us?"

"Sure," Al smiled. The only men in the military who could forget rank off duty completely and just be friendly were the State Alchemists, and Al liked the ability to just be himself with them; another alchemist and soldier in the middle of a war that they had all agreed to fight, but wasn't what they had expected. "Thanks."

"You look a little lost, Al," Matthias chuckled, and passed a small bottle of rum his way. "Take a break and be irresponsible for five minutes. Even you get to relax a little."

"That's an interesting way of putting it," Al chuckled wryly. He accepted the bottle and took a small drink before passing it on.

"How's Fullmetal?" one of the others asked.

"Improving," Al replied, leaning back against the log they had pulled up for that purpose. He let his injured arm rest in his lap as he laid the other one out across the log. "He's been in worse shape than this before. He's just impatient."

"If I were him I'd want a shot at those bastards," a younger man from one of the more recent classes snorted, drinking from the bottle. "I'd show them what they get for messing with alchemists."

"That's the kind of attitude that causes trouble," Matthias scowled at him. "Better to just move on and live. Me, all I want is to get this done and go home to my wife and kids." The bottle came back around and Matthias took another drink. "They've got to be worried sick by now."

One by one, the others began to voice what they missed most about home. Usually the list was topped by family, or girlfriends from the ones who weren't married. Then they missed creature comforts; like soft blankets, good home cooked food, civilian clothing, a little radio to pass the time, and the images filled the night air until it was like they had created their own little version of home, at least for right there, right then.

Al felt bad as he listened. He had at least managed to send little words home, and hopefully the folks back home knew that the rolls of the dead that Al had reported back were the only casualties. Still, they had to dread wondering, waiting to hear familiar names reported back. He took another drink as the bottle came around again. "At least they know we're alive," he pointed out as he stared into the fire. "And it will all be there waiting for us when we get home." His arm ached from having to write despite the injury – left handed had just_ not_ worked – but the pain was fading a little. Al just wished that something would touch the ache in his heart.


	15. Chapter 15

**July 5****th****, 1952**

The fighting had lasted four days so far and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Each day the two lines faced off across the distance and shot at each other. Alphonse would have been more concerned, but so far they weren't really taking losses, just wounded, thanks to the alchemist-produced protective barriers and the use of alchemy in other ways to deflect larger ammunition and try and distract the other side. Al didn't think the other side was taking much in the way of losses either, but at least the wounded were getting the chance to heal up, and he considered that a valuable use of time and resources.

"How much longer can we hold out like this before we run out of ammunition?" Brewster asked Al that afternoon as they went over the reports from the other officers, especially the quartermasters.

"About a month at the current rate of fire if we have to," Al replied. "Though food will only hold out for about another three weeks if we don't spend some time foraging."

"Good thing we're surrounded by farms then isn't it?" Brewster gave a wry chuckle. They hated to take anything from the locals, but anyone wise had gotten out of the way of the armies days ago, and most people were not amiable enough this far South even for trade.

"What's with all the_ noise _around here?" Edward griped as he pushed his way into the tent, scowling. His expression said clearly however that he knew what the problem was. "Can't you get these guys to stop shooting for five minutes? They're giving me a headache."

Al frowned. "You're not supposed to be out of bed." His brother was moving lopsidedly given the injury and holding his side with his opposite hand.

"Who can sleep when we're getting shelled day in and day out?" Ed countered. "How long have we been here anyway?"

"Four days," Brewster commented calmly. Al knew he had gotten used to Ed's moods and was expecting the same explosion Al was. "We entrenched the first night."

"Damn it!" Ed slammed his fist down on the table then cringed as it jerked his side. "I _told_ you to keep to the trees, but now we're stuck just like I said we would be!"

"Calm down, Ed," Al raised his hands in a calming gesture. "You're in no condition to –"

"Don't coddle me, Alphonse," Ed snapped. "I'm out of commission for a few days and everything falls apart."

Okay, that _did it_. "_Nothing_ has fallen apart," Al snapped back at his brother. He was getting sick of Ed's attitude. "You already agreed that if the pass was a trap we would head in this direction. Or don't you remember that conversation? It doesn't matter, because there was no other choice. I buried the last_ three_ _hundred _yards of that pass in rubble and walled it off before we left to cover our backside. You've been an _invalid_ for almost two weeks and you can still barely walk. Until you're fit to command that puts me in charge as per orders from Central. So unless you'd like to call up Breda and have this fight out with him I suggest you just learn to_ deal with it._"

Ed looked stunned as he stared at Al, the outburst obviously unexpected. Brewster looked impressed. Ed shook his head then almost collapsed into the nearest chair, hissing in pain as he landed. Like Al, he seemed to realize that just proved Al's point. "So what's the current plan?" he asked more calmly.

"Holding here for now," Al admitted. "There hasn't been a good opportunity to break the line, and staying stationary is doing the men a lot of good. Even with combat they're getting more rest than they have in a while, and the injured are getting a chance to heal up the way they should." Like Ed _should_ be if he would take advantage of that fact.

Ed obviously read that thought into Al's inferred meaning. "I get you. I take it we have the food and supplies for this?"

"We were just discussing that," Brewster got into the conversation, picking up the reports they had been going over. "We should see about sending out foraging parties to supplement, but we're actually all right for now."

"We should figure out what to say in the next report," Al said after a moment. He looked at Ed. "The last thing we told them you were in critical condition. What do you want us to tell Central, since you're the one who's anal about what we send over the radio?"

"Tell them I'm _not dead yet,_" Ed replied with a smirk. "That way they know I'm alive, but no one listening has any idea of my condition."

"Is that wise?" Brewster asked, looking a little startled. "Won't it worry everyone back home?"

"Better they worry than the enemy knows I'm still kicking isn't it?" Ed shrugged. "They wanted us dead; me and whoever might be with me. No one wastes the money and time with a sniper and a soldier armed with a _submachine gun_ to take out random scouts. Good thing they're lousy shots."

"I'm not sure I'd call your injuries _lousy _shots," Brewster pointed out.

Al couldn't help chuckling. He understood. "We're still alive. Though Hal has a point." He looked between the two men. "That's not going to be particularly reassuring."

"I'll apologize for hurt feelings later," Ed replied brusquely. "What matters now is getting us all out of this mess and down to Bueáire while we can still do some good."

"I can't argue with that," Al chuckled. He didn't want to hit there too late or find all of their efforts wasted anymore than his brother did, even if they did both have differing ideas on how to accomplish their goals. "Does that mean you're going to behave and rest up like you're supposed to?"

Ed looked irritated but he nodded. "As much as I can," was all he promised, but Al wasn't about to push too far. At least it was better than Ed getting stubborn again.

"Good," Al nodded. "Then you'd better get back to bed before Knox comes looking for you, or we'll _all_ get hell for it!"

"You baby," Ed smirked at him. "Knox doesn't intimidate me. Fine, fine." He shrugged and went to stand, gasping almost at once and leaning back in the chair. "Umm…. Could you help me up?"

Al laughed as he went over and hoisted Ed to his feet. "_Who _were you calling a baby?" His arm twinged uncomfortably but he ignored it.

"Oh shut up," Ed groused as he steadied himself. "I'm not crying."

"No, you're not," Al agreed as he watched Ed hobble back out of the tent. _At least, not on the outside. _It bothered him, seeing his brother badly injured and worn down. He knew that Ed had been worse off before, but that didn't make this any easier to bear.

**July 12****th****, 1952**

It was in the middle of lunch when orders came to convene in the command center in the Barracks Hotel. Sara wolfed down her last few bites of burrito and hurried out of the Mess with the others. Kane was waiting for them with a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face that made Sara wonder if the man had cracked. If not, then it had to be _long_ over-due good news.

"I just heard from General Armstrong." Kane didn't leave them in suspense. "This morning the Aerugean Northern force folded and surrendered. We've re-established the rail lines and the road to Amestris. What remains of the Second Division and half of Rehnquist's men should be here within the week."

"What does that mean for us?" Banes asked.

"It means that when they get here, we'll have the man and firepower to burst this siege wide open and start pushing the Aerugeans back toward Bueáire if we don't break them completely," Kane replied, calming down some now that the news was out. "Though we have new orders for after that. Rehnquist's men and half of the Second Division will continue to hold Havah. With the other half of the Second, _we_ will be going to Bueáire."

"Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but why us?" Maes asked, sounding uncharacteristically concerned. Sara glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He honestly looked worried. Surely that wasn't about_ their _safety or any hesitance about getting into heavier fighting. She thought she had a pretty good guess as to what was bothering her friend.

"Partially experience," Kane replied. "We should be able to bust Bueáire right open if they try and keep us out. That and we haven't been out in the thick of it for the past few months. Relatively speaking, we're some of the freshest troops we've got down here."

"That's almost depressing," Franklin commented.

"I don't disagree," Kane smirked. "But that's where things stand. Fortunately we will have supplies coming down from Amestris on the trains soon so we won't be heading south short-handed."

That was good. Sara was looking forward to the return of the flow of mail back and forth as well. She was already wording a letter to her mother in her head even as she tried to stay focused on the meeting. She was sure Mom, Ethan, Aldon and the rest were worried.

The rest of the meeting turned into individual instructions and lasted another hour. When it was over, Sara maneuvered her way through the crowd of officers towards Maes, who was moving quickly.

"Hey Maes," Sara caught up with him in the hallway. "Wow, I finally managed to catch you alone," she chuckled. "Can we talk?"

Maes looked at her curiously and shrugged. "Well sure. What did you want to discuss?"

"Elena," Sara got right to the point as she ushered him into a quiet corner. "I saw your face in there."

Maes sighed. "There's a price on her head," he replied. "Going back to Bueáire is a dangerous proposition."

"So she can stay here," Sara shrugged, bracing for the disagreement she knew was coming. She could see it on Maes' face and the set of his shoulders already. "They won't let her cross the border right now; you know that. But when this is all over and the border opens up she'll be free to do whatever she wants. Havah's still going to be full of Amestrians and no one's going to just hand her over to the government we're here to deal with."

"I can't just abandon her," Maes shook his head.

Sara had hoped, despite the inability to find Maes _without_ Elena during his free time ever since her arrival, that she had somehow misunderstood her friend's concern for their old school mate. The look on his face now though told her she had read him correctly from the first moment he had re-introduced her to the other woman two months ago. "You're falling for her, aren't you?"

"That's not why I'm doing this!" Maes objected, his face going red.

Sara sighed. "It's pretty obvious that you're in love with her you know."

"How can you tell?" Maes asked, frowning.

Sara couldn't help smiling. "You never looked at me the way you look at her."

That caught him off guard. Maes' expression went blank for a moment. "And how's that?"

"Like you're intoxicated when I know you haven't had a drink in over twenty-four hours," Sara replied. Maes never did anything half way.

"A man would have to be _dead_ not to find her attractive," her friend grumbled, looking uncomfortable with the entire conversation.

"Have you slept with her?"

"No!" His indignant expression was almost laughable. "That's not what she needs right now."

"It's okay, Maes," Sara replied softly. In her mind, that proved it. "Did I say anything disapproving? I only asked to make the point."

Maes went back to confusion. "I'm not sure I get it," he admitted after several seconds.

"Given your past, the only girls you _don't_ sleep with are the ones you have actual feelings for." Sara would never have slept with him, and here he was getting affronted about sleeping with a girl when he'd been with dozens. Sure he hadn't actually been with any in quite a while and was still working to repair his image, but his reaction was stronger than even that should allow for.

"I can't come up with a good argument against that one," Maes sighed, smiling weakly. "I guess I'm pretty transparent, huh?"

"Like glass," Sara chuckled. "I haven't been able to talk to you practically in months. Every time I hunt you down you're with her, and really there's nothing wrong with that."

"Except that I have to follow orders and she can't leave the country," Maes sighed, finishing her thought without her having to say something out loud. "Yeah, I know. But I have to tell her what's going on and let her make her own decision. We… damn it, it's not fair!" His voice cracked suddenly. "I haven't felt like this in forever or, really, ever, but I never expected a situation this complicated."

"Not even after what happened with us?" Sara asked with a wry smirk.

"Not even," Maes at least managed a weak smile. "But I promised her I wouldn't leave her undefended, that I'd take care of her no matter what happened."

"That's a pretty big promise to try and keep in a war zone," Sara pointed out, though she was sure Maes already knew that. "I doubt they would stop her from coming along and continuing to help in the hospital or something, but as you pointed out it would be very dangerous for her to come with you."

"That's why I need to talk to her," Maes nodded, fidgeting nervously.

"Then I won't keep you any longer," Sara smiled at him and stepped out of the way. "Just don't do anything rash all right?"

"Who me?" Maes gave her a mildly offended look. "Just kidding," he smiled a moment later. "You don't need to remind me of my stellar past decisions. The last thing I want to do is anything that will hurt Elena." He ducked past her then and hurried off down the hall.

Sara watched him go, silently hoping that somehow everything would work out. The last thing Maes needed was another heart-break.

* * *

Maes hadn't been expecting Sara to say anything, but he realized _he_ probably should, now that she had pointed out how obvious his feelings were for Elena and the fact that he likely hadn't hidden them from anybody. He knew Elena had feelings for him, but he wasn't entirely sure if they ran as deeply as his, despite the warmth of her kisses and how willingly she snuggled against him in private.

He had thought that telling Elena about his past screw-ups would be the hardest thing he ever had to tell her, but Maes was pretty sure that this would be much harder. He could not go against his orders, but she had the right to make her own decision. Maes did not dare to hope that she would choose to come with him. Maybe someday, when this whole war was over, they would have a real chance together.

It took a while to find Elena. When Maes went to her room, she wasn't there. He inquired out in Tent City and found out she was working a shift in the field hospital. Maes knew he shouldn't interrupt her work, and he had to be back on his own shift within the hour. He chafed at the wait, but decided he couldn't do much else. It was a very long shift. Or at least, it felt like it as Maes waited for it to end. Fortunately his time organizing paperwork for Kane in regards to what they currently had in the way of alchemical supplies was a job he could finish by dinner, and he and Elena were supposed to meet up for that.

Shift finally ended, and Maes was on his way back to the hospital when Elena met him half way, a worried expression on her face. Obviously, she already knew. She fell into his arms and hugged him tightly. "I heard," she whispered.

Maes guided her over to one of the park benches nearby and they sat down. Maes was sure this had probably been a favorite romantic spot before the park was filled with military tents, but now it was a needed quiet place. "We have some time," he pointed out gently; a couple of weeks at least. "No decisions have to be made today but…I'm going to Bueáire. I don't have any choice."

"I know," Elena sighed, still hugging him as if he might disappear at any moment. "I would never ask you to do otherwise. You have your duty and what you're doing is good for my people, even if they don't all understand that."

It was nice to have someone really believe in him. Maes kissed the top of her head and held her close. "You can stay in Havah. Rehnquist and his men will be holding the city, so it's still safe here."

"I want to go with you." Elena surprised him.

Maes leaned back just a little so he could see her face. The expression on her delicate face was firmly determined. "It's dangerous for you in Bueáire."

Elena nodded. "It's dangerous for me anywhere in Aerugo, Maes. I can stay here, worrying and waiting and surrounded by people I hardly know, or I can go with you. You said I had an entire army to protect me didn't you?" She smiled a little smugly. "I much prefer to be with soldiers I know, helping in my own way. Besides," she added softly. "Who needs an army when I have the personal protection of a talented alchemist?"

Maes grinned, his heart in his throat. She wanted to come with him, despite the risks. "I would take on any foe to protect you."

"Such a noble statement," Elena giggled. "Like something out of the tales I loved as a girl; the shining hero. Maybe that's why I love you so much."

Had she really just said – she had, hadn't she? Maes kissed her deeply, losing himself in her warmth and the light scent of magnolias that seemed to cling to her hair. "I love you," he whispered as their lips parted. "I never want to see anything happen to hurt you again. I'm glad you want to come with me, but are you sure that's the safest option?"

"No," Elena replied. "It probably isn't, but I cannot do less. I may also still have family living, and with the protection to see, I should try find out if either of my older brothers' wives and children may still be alive." Two of her older brothers had been married, one with two sons.

"Just please be careful," Maes ran his fingers through her long dark hair. "I don't think I could stand losing you."

"I will be," Elena promised. "We'll get through this together."

"And after, we'll find a way to get you out of this place," he replied. "You'll come to Central with me, right?"

"Of course I will." Elena looked like she might cry, but Maes hoped they were happy tears. "I would go anywhere with you."

"Good," Maes smiled, feeling a little teary himself even as she hugged him tightly around the neck. "I want you with me for the rest of my life." He knew life without Elena's smile, her laugh, her gentle nature and incredible insight – and he didn't want to go back to that now that his world had been brightened by having her in it. It might have been an impulse that moved him to speak again, but he knew the feelings behind it were sincere. "If we both survive this war, will you marry me?"

Elena's eyes went wide, and Maes feared he had pushed things too far, too fast. She had told him she was long over her dead fiancé, but that didn't mean she was ready to talk long term with someone else. As he waited in the lengthening silence, a tear fell from Elena's eye and ran down the smooth curve of her cheek, catching on the upturn of her mouth as it spread into a disbelieving smile. "You don't waste time," she giggled, sniffing back other tears. "I would be honored to be yours, Maes. Though I don't think you know what you're getting into."

_Yes! _"Umm... why is that?" he asked, his elation tempered quickly by worry at the glint in her eyes.

Elena's hand slipped behind his neck as she moved in close to kiss him again. "I've always wanted a _large _family."

**July 7****th****, 1952 **

"What do you mean _he's not dead ye_t?" Winry reined her temper in just enough not to shout over the phone. It was the first word she had received of Ed's condition in an interminable two weeks of worry and often sleepless nights and _this _was what she got?

"That's what Alphonse said exactly," Breda replied, nervous and apologetic.

"They're Ed's words," Winry growled. It kept her from crying at least. "I'd know that lousy sense of humor anywhere."

"At least it means he's alive," Breda replied, sounding placating.

He was right of course. Still, a less depressing or sarcastic message would have assuaged her fears. All that one left her with was irritation and continued worry. Though, if Ed was alive enough to _make_ the statement than that probably meant he was at least awake and alert. "It does. Thank you for calling. Bye, Breda."

"It's funny how Dad can drive people crazy from hundreds of miles away isn't it?" Ethan commented from behind her.

Winry turned and looked at her son's amused expression. "I was just hoping for something a little more concrete. Is that too much to ask?" she asked him with a heavy sigh. "Am I being unreasonable to want to know that he's not lying in bed, paralyzed from the waist down or too sick to move?"

Ethan hugged her. "If he was, do you think that's the message he would have sent?"

"Yes," Winry replied as she hugged him back. "I do."

"All right," Ethan conceded. "But would Uncle Al have actually said it?"

"Probably not," Winry admitted, feeling a little relief at that fact. If Ed were in danger of expiring in the near future, then Al would not have said anything nearly so flippant or morbid. The injuries were clearly bad, but Ed was alive. "Thank you, sweetie," she smiled at Ethan. He looked so much like Ed now that if it weren't for the fact that his hair was distinctly lighter Winry could still some days almost mistake him for Edward, if only for a moment. Then she would remember _when_ she was.

"You're welcome. You have that look again, Mom," Ethan smiled lopsidedly. "Would you feel better if I emptied the refrigerator? I'm starving."

Winry chuckled. "Funny enough, I think I might." That was something the two of them had in common as well; usually they knew what to say to make her feel better. Winry just wished Ed would remember that talent _now _when she needed it most.


	16. Chapter 16

**July 16****th****, 1952**

Eleven days since Alphonse had put him in his place, and Edward was still biting his tongue and doing his best to be good. Eleven days, and they were still being bombarded. The Aerugeans had finally gotten their big guns into place and it was only distance that kept them from shelling the heck out of the lines, and only the alchemists that kept the death toll from skyrocketing, though there were far more losses than Ed liked.

It would have been less agonizing if he could have done something about any of it, but Ed was stuck doing what he hated the most; resting and lying still. Knox chewed him out every time Ed left the medical tent for any period of time longer than it took Knox to notice Ed missing and get irritated, which really wasn't long. It was surprisingly reassuring actually. Knox reminded Ed a lot of Stevenson, and that made him much easier to deal with.

As much as Ed would have liked to deny it he was still a long way from recovered. He still slept about twice as much as he thought he should need. His internal organs were deemed healthy, but that didn't mean the healing hole in his back and mangled abdominal muscles didn't feel like they were burning painfully if he breathed too deeply or moved around at all. It was a healthy pain though, evidence of healing, and Ed refused to whine about it or make a fuss. It wouldn't do any good anyway. Finally after a few days Knox had at least given him leave to eat as much as he could keep down. The only problem was that their limited rations were still not enough to satisfy his hunger. The extremity of his exhaustion and hunger Ed chalked up to the inhuman amounts of alchemical power he had used to heal his organs.

Ed had actually tried for several days to hurry the current healing process up with alchemy, but in his weakened condition – and without the impetus of panic in a life or death situation – he had no more luck than he had ever had before, and ended up paying for it afterwards with exhaustion headaches and napping for the rest of the day. Finally, Ed had been caught in an attempt by Alphonse, who chewed him out and threatened to tell Knox. That had been the end of that. Ed had been about to give up anyway.

The worst problem was that lying in bed most of the day and night, Ed had too much time to think. He _was _allowed out of bed for short periods to walk around and get a little light exercise to keep his muscles from atrophying, but it wasn't enough to keep his mind distracted. Ed wished it were. His thoughts were like a broken recording lately. The same themes over and over again; the odd strain between him and Winry before he left, his guilt over the deaths of Aerugean civilians, mental images of the boy he'd cut down, the running tally of soldiers they had lost due to his leadership choices; his doubts about them being here in the first place, and putting his little brother through hell. They haunted him in his sleep too. This time around, the nightmares didn't wait until the war was over.

Ed was surprised one night to jerk awake from a nightmare, covered in sweat, and find Doctor Knox sitting quietly beside him on a stool. In the dim lamplight Ed could see a surprisingly sympathetic expression on the man's face, though it vanished the moment their eyes met. Ed breathed deeply for several seconds to calm his racing heart and tried to will away the pain in his side from jerking partially upright before falling back. "What are you doing here?" he asked softly when he had regained his composure.

"Remembering," Knox sighed. "Actually I heard you while I was doing my rounds and came in to check on you. You talk in your sleep."

"Yeah, I know," Ed shrugged slightly. "Always have. Why, did I say something incriminating or just amusing?"

"Familiar," Knox replied. "I hear patients talk and cry out in their sleep regularly, especially during campaigns, but often for years afterwards. I can always tell who's been in combat by the way they sleep and the kinds of dreams they have. It's one of the best ways to tell what's really going on in a patient's mind."

"If this turns into a psycho-analysis conversation in the middle of the night I'm getting up and running no matter how painful," Ed quipped. He had no idea how late it was but it had to be pretty late. It was definitely dark outside the tent, and everything was quiet inside and out. He didn't even hear the sounds of boots on the ground outside or quiet chatter. Given that, he guessed it was about two or three in the morning. "What are you doing up?"

The old man smirked. "Rounds; I keep odd hours by nature, so it's easier to let the nurses and other medics sleep while they can."

Ed got the feeling that Knox had been one of those patients as much as he had been the doctor. "Al said you were a Doctor in Ishbal."

"I was," Knox confirmed brusquely. "That's how I know far too well how soldiers are, and how different State Alchemists are from other men in their ways."

He didn't like the sound of that. "Hey, what the Alchemists did in Ishbal was horrific, but a lot of them were just following orders!"

"Calm down, Edward," Knox sighed. "I'm not insulting them. I just mean I'm used to dealing with the kinds of things soldiers deal with and the after-effects they have. Don't tell me you didn't have nightmares after the Xing War. I was given a copy of your complete file when they assigned me as the chief medical officer for this Division."

"Then why ask when you already know the whole story?" No, Ed really wasn't enjoying this part of the conversation, but he was the one who had started it. "Yeah, of course I had nightmares. I've had nightmares since I was a kid, though I don't usually have those particular ones anymore. I don't exactly run away from the tough situations."

"I hadn't noticed," the doctor's reply was dripping with sarcasm. "The fact that you're alive – this time being a prime example – is almost enough to make me believe in miracles given your record, though I'm more inclined to chock it up to insane amounts of luck."

"I prefer skill," Ed grumbled, "Though luck's definitely part of it. But why would nightmares bring you in here when you hear them all the time?" he asked curiously.

Now Knox looked slightly uncomfortable. Well, Ed might be imagining that part given the dim lightning, but he was pretty sure. His voice was steady when he spoke though. "They weren't all the usual nightmares."

Ed had the rare talent - he refused to think of it as a_ gift _– of remembering a lot of his dreams and nightmares after the fact even when he would rather have forgotten them. Lately though he'd had so many on different subjects that he couldn't be sure which ones Knox was referring to specifically. "What was this last one?"

"You were calling out your wife's name," Knox replied and Ed wasn't hallucinating the unusual quiet in the tone. "Pleading, apologizing. I don't know what about," he added.

Ed felt mildly ill. He didn't care who knew about the other dreams, those weren't anywhere near as personal. "Guys can't miss their wives?" he replied caustically.

"Oh, never mind," Knox shook his head. "It was just outside the norm so it caught my attention."

Tired as he was, Ed wasn't blind or stupid. "Do you have a family?" he asked softly on a hunch.

Knox scowled, and Ed knew he'd hit on something. "I did once, many years ago."

Well that was vague. "What happened?"

Knox shrugged. "Ishbal."

Ed winced. Even decades later that massacre was haunting people. "They weren't killed?"

"No," the man seemed to droop a little as he shook his head. "You know the stories; I don't need to tell you what happened in Ishbal. After the war, after what we did, I had nightmares too, and flashbacks, and all the lovely_ consolation prizes_ they never tell you that you're taking home until its too late to change what you've seen."

"But we've all dealt with that on some level," Ed objected, not sure he liked where this story was going.

"It scared my wife." It was the most talkative Knox had been around Ed when he wasn't barking orders. Ed lay there silently, not daring to interrupt. He wondered how long Knox had kept the story in. Surely it wasn't something he told very often. "Frankly it scared me. The flashbacks especially were terrible. They would last for minutes sometimes, and even if they didn't, I got violent sometimes; terribly violent. It wasn't how I wanted to be, but I couldn't control it though I tried, and finally she just couldn't take it anymore. She took my son and left."

Silence fell. "I'm sorry to hear that," Ed said softly when it was clear the doctor had finished his story.

"In the end, it was probably best for them both," Knox said with a hint of bitterness. "It was years before I got past the worst of it and I know it scared my son. I wasn't much good to them then, but I still miss them."

Ed had always been grateful for the safety and love that was the home he and Winry had built. He couldn't imagine life without the kids and the joy they all got from being a close family. He knew full well that he wouldn't have made it through the period after the Xing War without their support and perseverance. "Winry wasn't happy with my decision to take this mission," he admitted. It wasn't like Knox was going to tell the world; doctor-patient privilege and all that. "I guess I feel guilty now. This is just the kind of thing she was worried about and, as usual, she was right."

"A wise woman," Knox smirked, his usual demeanor back in place. "I could wish you had listened. Putting you back together is a pain in the ass."

"Isn't there some rule about not psychologically abusing your patients?" Ed retorted.

"I'm not that kind of doctor," Knox shrugged. "And I doubt telling you the truth will damage your mental stability anymore than the number you've probably done on yourself over the years." He stood, back popping, and turned to go, picking up the lamp as he did so. "Get your rest, Edward. May you sleep peacefully."

The last was unexpected. Ed smiled briefly as the man vanished beyond the curtain of Ed's privately blocked off bed – there were some perks to being the commanding officer – and closed his eyes as it went suddenly dark again. The old grouch wasn't so bad really. Ed felt sorry for him, losing his wife and son like that because of what had happened in Ishbal. He found the story depressing and mildly worrisome too. As Ed drifted off again, he silently hoped that he was never so incapable of controlling himself that he would ever hurt Winry that way. He actually chuckled quietly, shaking off his fear. That was ridiculous. He'd never struck Winry in his life, at least not with intent. Besides, he thought with pride, his wife was one of the strongest people he knew.

With that thought firmly in his mind, Ed hoped that what followed would be more pleasant dreams.

**July 17****th****, 1952**

As long as Winry was safe far away from where they were, and he had a home to go home to, Edward knew he'd make it all right. He slept better for the rest of the night and woke feeling relatively refreshed, and newly determined. After breakfast, Ed hobbled over to the command tent. It still hurt, but the pain was no longer nearly as bad as it had been as long as he avoided fast and jerky movements. Ed had insisted a few days ago on being allowed to go out on his own to relieve himself; sick to death of bed pans and hospital gowns. He felt more like himself in his uniform pants and shirt, as odd as that realization was given how much he had hated the things most of his life.

The shelling had already begun for the day, and Ed was unsurprised to find Brewster in the tent. "Where's Alphonse?" he asked the other man.

Brewster looked up at him. "On the lines," he replied. "We've been taking turns."

"How fair of you," Ed smirked as he made his way to the table. The map laid out today was new. At least, it was a detailed drawing of the local area with their location marked, and the known locations and troop numbers of the enemy marked as well. "You've been busy. Nice map."

"Thanks," Brewster smiled as he made a notation near the enemy's right flank. "My mother always told me I should have been a cartographer."

Ed had meant the comment partially in jest, but he shouldn't have been surprised that the man had talents he hadn't known about despite the last several months they had spent working together. "About all I can draw well are transmutation circles," Ed chuckled. "Though I like to think my skills have gotten a little better over the years. So what's our situation?"

"They're getting bolder," Brewster sighed. "They actually tried to flank us on the left yesterday, but that failed and they pulled back."

"What have we done to discourage that kind of ingenuity and bravery on their part?" Ed asked. He noticed that at the moment they were definitely outnumbered, and looked at the markings that determined the location of a couple of tanks. "Why haven't we taken out the big guns?"

"You make these things sound so easy," Brewster shook his head. "Wasn't taking out tanks and canons what got you captured in the Xing War in the first place?"

"You've been talking to Al too much," Ed sighed. He would rather forget that little ambush. It reminded him that this kind of thing had actually happened to him before. Leading from the front came naturally to him, but it did tend to get him in a lot of trouble. He had honestly figured sneaking in from the back wouldn't be as difficult! "Though you have a point and I think we can take advantage of it."

"Of the fact I have a point?" Brewster quirked an eyebrow at him.

"The fact that the enemy thinks they know exactly what we'll do," Ed shook his head. As it came to him, the plan seemed more and more feasible. "I think it's about time we shook them up a little."

Brewster looked skeptical. "We? You're barely able to walk around camp on your own. If you're thinking of doing anything more than that I'll just sit by and watch while Alphonse ties you down."

Ed laughed. This was too good! "Yeah, but they don't know that do they? They don't even know how badly I was injured in the first place, just that they thought they had me dead." He turned and headed for the door. Brewster followed him, having no trouble keeping up. Ed would have liked to run, but he couldn't quite manage it and he didn't want to render himself bedridden again just when he finally had something he could actually do.

It only took a couple of minutes to reach the communications tent, and the Major currently sitting by the radios scanning the frequencies looked more than a little surprised to see them. "Can I help you, Sirs?"

"I need to talk to Central Headquarters," Ed replied without preamble. "Now."

"It's not our designated communication period for another couple of days," the poor officer looked confused.

"Are the Aerugeans scanning our communications?" Ed asked, his mind churning now as it focused on the plan.

"Yes, sir," the Major nodded. "At least, that's what their communications indicate. I _am_ fluent in the language."

"Excellent. Then get me through to Headquarters now."

The Major just shrugged and got to work. Out of the jungles, Ed couldn't imagine there would be much trouble. Their last communications had been, so Al reported, crystal clear from here. At least as far as radios ever really got.

"What the hell are you doing, Ed?" Brewster frowned, obviously entirely lost.

"Creating a little chaos," Ed grinned sadistically. "I want to give our friends over there something to chew on for a while, till they_ choke _on it."

"I've got contact with the relay point at the border," the Major reported. "They're making sure we have contact with Central now. It will be a few minutes."

"Don't you think we should discuss this with Alphonse first?" Brewster still seemed hesitant.

"No I don't," Ed shook his head. "This is still my command, isn't it? I already know what Al is going to say. Going through the motions of asking him isn't going to change my mind or my actions on this. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"It's on your head," Brewster sighed, shoving the available chair in Ed's direction rather forcefully. "At least sit down and save your strength. It's not like the enemy can actually see how feeble you are."

"Feeble?" Ed was about to retort further when the Major waved a hand. "All right," he said several seconds later. "You're on, General Elric."

Ed picked up the receiver and grinned at Brewster. "Command this is the Eastern Division."

"Edward?" He heard Breda's voice come over the line a few seconds later. "Well there's a first. What's going on? Is there an emergency?"

"Isn't the entire war an emergency, Mister President?" Ed chuckled. "I just thought I should let you know that everything's still going according to plan and I'll be retaining command."

"The last report said you were critically wounded," Breda pointed out, sounding skeptical.

"Reports of injury and any rumors of my untimely demise are _drastically exaggerated_, President Breda," Ed replied, hoping that the tactical genius on the other end was smart enough to get what Ed was doing. Otherwise he was going to be in serious trouble later for lying to his commanding officer!

There was a longer pause than usual. "Understood, General Elric," Breda replied. "What is your present situation?"

This couldn't be going better if they had scripted it. "We are currently resting comfortably about a hundred miles from Bueáire's front gates getting in some target practice," Ed replied conversationally. "At the moment, everything's going perfectly according to plan." The one he had just cooked up anyway!

Breda sounded mildly amused. "Glad to hear it. Keep it up and don't break a sweat okay?" Yeah, Breda knew what Ed was up to. Thank goodness for a competent superior. Of course, it helped that they'd known each other for decades.

"Understood, Sir," Ed laughed. "That's your responsibility as I recall."

"Very funny," the reply came through sounding mildly annoyed. "Keep me updated as needed from here on out. That's an order."

"Yes, Sir!"

When the transmission ended, Ed handed the receiver back to the communications officer and turned to Brewster. "How was my performance?"

"If you just did what I think, than flawless," Brewster smiled, looking mildly stunned. "That may be the most effective way of spreading doubt and paranoia I've ever seen. Assuming they buy it of course."

"If they don't today, they will after a couple more conversations like that," Ed replied confidently. "They can't afford not to take into account what they just heard when they're planning their strategies. And I intend to keep them jumping." He stood up slowly and headed back out of the tent. It was time to get back to the medical tent before Knox gave him another pointless lecture.

"How's that?" Brewster asked, relaxing as he realized the direction they were going. He still looked ready to catch Ed if he stumbled or fell, which the alchemist found mildly irritating.

"It's not that hard to make someone think you are where you aren't, and doing things you're not." Ed had gotten rather good at that over the years. "And I have a reputation for doing things myself right out front. I'm hot headed, brash, and predictable right?"

"So they say," Brewster replied somewhat neutrally.

"I'm not the only one who can do a lot of my alchemy tricks. I taught every alchemist in the division, and Al can replicate pretty much anything I do well enough for untrained eyes." He hadn't actually had long to think it out, but his plans tended to flood his mind like this. Now that it was sorting itself out, Ed no longer felt like he was planning it out on the fly. "And I'm not the only average-sized blond guy around here either." Brewster sniggered quickly. "One height crack and you're demoted," Ed glanced over at the other General.

"Yes, Sir," Brewster grinned. "I can't imagine Alphonse disagreeing with decoys and people doing alchemy in your place. If you look like you're at full strength and we get them worried enough, they might actually make a tactical error."

"That's the plan," Ed nodded. "Now I just need to work out some of the details with Al."

**July 18****th****, 1952**

"I swear those fit you a week ago," Winry exclaimed, looking at her growing teenage son in mounting frustration. "Why do I even bother trying to keep you in clothes that fit anyway?"

Ethan shrugged, looking down at the hems of his jeans, which were a good half inch too short. "If it makes you feel better," he grinned, "They're actually a little tight in the waist too for once."

Winry gave him a withering glance. "At least I won't be accused of letting you starve while you pick my cabinets clean." Actually, it was kind of a relief. Ethan was as lean built as Edward, but often thinner too. She guessed he must be the same height now as Ed, given the height at which their eyes met.

"You said I would need new clothes when I go back to school anyway," Ethan pointed out calmly. "Why don't we just wait until then?"

"And have you run around like this all summer?" Winry asked him incredulously.

Ethan's grin became a smirk. "I'll just look like every other growing teenager in Central."

"I know," Winry stood there, hands on her hips, trying to think of another solution when the phone rang. She had taken a couple of days off from work to relax, but that didn't mean there weren't times they still called for her advice or a decision on something. "We'll figure this out in a minute," she said to Ethan as she turned and went over to answer it. "But do you think I'm going to let you get away with looking like a mop in hand-me-downs?"

"Why not?" Ethan laughed. "That's pretty much what I am."

"Shush," Winry picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Winry? It's Elicia." Her friend's excited voice came over the line. "I just ran into Breda in the hall and I had to call you as soon as we talked!"

"What? What's going on?" If Elicia had talked to Breda and was this excited then it had to have _something _to do with the boys.

Elicia chuckled. "They heard from Edward! I mean directly; he radioed in to Central just a couple of hours ago."

Winry's heart was in her throat for just a moment, then relief seemed to flood through her; word from Ed directly. "What did he say?" she asked, trying not to sound desperate and assuredly failing.

"Let me see if I can remember it exactly." There was a moment of Elicia hemming on the other end of the line. "I think it was 'rumors of my untimely demise are drastically exaggerated' or something like that. Anyway, what he said was that Ed's still injured, but he's okay. I mean he's obviously up and moving around some if he could radio back, and he said he sounded pretty good."

"Well that's a relief," Winry felt lighter than she had in weeks. "What about Al? Where are they?"

"They're stalled at the moment and fighting the enemy," Elicia replied. "Or at least, that's what Breda said he thought Edward meant. Apparently this was all in subtle suggestive code of some kind. He wouldn't say what. But he said that Ed's apparently back in command and up to his usual tricks."

That… was not what Winry wanted to hear. That was the kind of thing that usually meant Ed was putting himself at risk _again._ "So that's it? A couple of weeks in bed after almost being killed and he's just _back on duty_ like nothing happened?" Her temper flared and for a moment she thought she might cry. What she had hoped was that he was taking it easy, that they were somewhere safe, and that this foolishness would end. Of course she knew they couldn't just ship him home. They couldn't do that with any of the wounded on the fools errand of a mission Ed had _insisted_ on for himself. "That idiot."

"Breda said he promised to take it easy," Elicia replied, sounding concerned and confused.

"Do you really believe that?" Winry asked harshly. The room felt too warm. Irritated, she picked up the glass of water she'd had on the table and drank. "This is _Ed _we're talking about."

"I guess." Elicia didn't sound convinced. "I'm sure Alphonse is keeping him in line, Winry, and the doctor too. It's not like Ed can just do whatever he wants."

"Oh can't he?" Winry snapped. "That's how he's always worked when he's got some scheme in mind. If he's planning something now, it's probably going to be dangerous. Either way, I know he won't rest up properly until he's healed. If he were, he'd have stayed in bed."

The other end of the line got quiet for several seconds. "Calm down, Winry," Elicia finally said, sounding concerned and a little wary. "I thought you'd be happy."

"I…" Winry paused, then sighed, the anger washing out of her as if blown away by the wind. "I'm sorry, Elicia. I took the day off because I was tired and short tempered. Obviously I'm not over whatever it is yet. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just sick and tired of sitting here day after day, worrying and wondering and doing _nothing._" There was something she hadn't asked yet. "Did… did Ed say anything about me?"

The pause on the other end was even longer this time. "No. Not that Breda passed on to me," Elicia admitted. "Look, I need to get back to work. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Winry replied lightly. "I'm just disappointed, though I don't know why I'm surprised. Edward's the worst correspondent on the Continent. Thanks for calling, Elicia."

Winry hung up the phone but stood there for a moment, hand resting on the receiver. What she wouldn't give for the phone to ring again, and for it to be Edward, so she could tell him she missed him, and she loved him, and that she was sick and tired of _waiting _for him to make contact!

"Mom."

She had almost forgotten Ethan standing in the room. "What is it, sweetie?" Winry looked up.

Ethan had a serious expression on his face. "If you're tired of waiting, why don't you go to him?"

"What?" For a moment, he made no sense. Then Winry realized what Ethan was talking about. "Go to _Aerugo_?"

"Why not?" Ethan shrugged. "I know you hate not being able to help. That's what you really want to do isn't it? Go down there and help the people who need it, the way Grandma and Grandpa Rockbell did in Ishbal? Strong Arm's divisions have to meet up with Dad _sometime. _No matter when that is, being down there you'd see him again faster than waiting around here." He put a hand on her shoulder. "And you'll probably see Sara too. You're going nuts here, Mom."

Those golden eyes seemed older than their years in that moment. "What about you?" Winry asked softly.

"I'm fifteen," Ethan chuckled softly. "You think I can't keep myself out of trouble for a couple of months? I'm at least as self-sufficient as you are."

She couldn't argue with that, especially given what she and Ed and Al had all been up to at that age. "So you won't mind."

"If I did would I be suggesting it?" Ethan asked. "Besides, Aunt Elicia and Aunt Gracia will make sure I don't starve to death."

"You won't, but they might," Winry quipped, the beginning of a smile forming on her lips. The freedom to actually _go_; it was something she had never thought she would have again. Though why she had felt that way she wasn't entirely sure anymore. She pulled her youngest child close in a tight hug. "And you don't want to go?" It occurred to her that there was no reason why her son wouldn't. He was the right age as far as _this_ family went. "You would be useful on the front."

"Yeah I thought about that," Ethan admitted with a sad smile. "And it's tempting, but I'm not even fully trained, and with you and Dad and Uncle Al and Sara out there, well just one more person to worry about won't do anyone any good." It was the mature answer Winry should have been expecting. "Besides, I promised myself and a lot of other people I'd see this through, and if I duck out now I'll get behind on all the aspects of my training. If_ I _died, then it would all be a waste. I have things to do, and running off into a war half trained isn't going to accomplish that."

"I wish other members of this family were so sensible," Winry almost started crying as she squeezed him tighter in her hug. "Thank you, Ethan. You're absolutely right. I'll have to arrange things at work for me to be gone for a little while, but I'm sure Laurence and the others can manage; and Elicia will keep an eye on the place." Her mind was off and running then, making lists of things she needed to do, needed to pack, people she needed to contact. "They need a good auto-mail engineer down there." It had been a long time since she had really been able to use her other skills. She was fully qualified to assist in surgery situations, handle first aid, and any other number of nursing duties.

For reasons she didn't understand, Ethan looked relieved. "You'll be great, Mom. You always are."

* * *

Ethan watched his mother hurry upstairs with a vigor he hadn't seen in months, and he smiled. She had done nothing but worry and stress ever since Dad left, and he knew that there was really nothing keeping her here except the idea that she needed to stay. It wasn't like he was little anymore. In the last war, he and Aldon had still been too small to be left alone. Or at least, he knew Mom wouldn't have left them with Uncle Al or Aunt Gracia then while the situation was volatile, not even to go after Sara and Dad. She had only gone after it was over.

Everything about the way she acted spoke of wanting to be useful, to do something besides wait. Ethan understood that feeling; he had it all the time. He didn't like waiting any more than Mom did, or than Dad ever did, but he had learned to be patient. To do what he wanted there were things he had to do, and learning had to build on itself. There was an order, a method, and he had to follow what there was to learn everything he needed. His mother already had an amazing wealth of knowledge that, while it wasn't being wasted at home, could be put to a more humanitarian and direct use with people who needed her more.

What Ethan saw in his mother now was that she needed to know she _was_ needed, and that she did not have to do something just because it was expected or had been that way for as long as Ethan could remember. He knew that, long before he was born, his mother had traveled with Dad and Uncle Al all over Amestris, and Europe too. He had seen the pictures and heard thousands of stories. It wasn't fair for her to feel tied down.

He would miss her of course, but it wasn't like she would be gone for good. Or at least, the way things were going now, there was little chance of her not coming back. Most people wouldn't kill doctors. His mother wasn't a soldier, and she wouldn't be on the lines.

Ethan just wanted her to do what she wanted more than anything else; to go hunt down Edward Elric like she had done so many times before.


	17. Chapter 17

**July 20****th****, 1952**

It didn't take long for paranoia on the part of the Aerugeans to work in their favor. Alphonse discovered that Edward's guess was correct. The men on the other side of the firing line really considered Ed to be a threat as much as the entire division he led. Perhaps it was because he was the Fullmetal Alchemist or just because he inspired the loyalty of the men who followed him and the culture was susceptible to charismatic leadership. So setting up the occasional alchemist as a fake Edward – making sure some of Ed's stunts were pulled and making it seem that Ed was very much out and about while using less traditional tactics – had the desired effect on the enemy. Within four days the Aerugeans were making minor tactical errors and double-guessing. They hadn't made a forced attack since.

However, they didn't pull back either and they stepped up the large artillery, shelling their position day and night. The alchemists were hard pressed to protect the camp, since there was little the regular soldiers could do against tank rounds.

"So what's the plan now?" Al asked Ed late in the morning of the fourth day. He had been more than a little annoyed that Ed hadn't told him the plan _before_ contacting Breda and setting things in motion, but it had appeared to be working. "You haven't exactly been forthcoming with all the details."

"They're jumpy and they're nervous," Ed shrugged. "Eventually, they'll break. But you're right; I don't really feel like waiting that long. So now it's time for me to actually play my hand."

Al didn't like the sound of that. "So other than your vocal display of bravado what do you have in mind?"

"What do you think I've been resting up for?" Ed asked with a glint in his eye that Al knew too well.

"Oh no," Al objected with a vigorous shake of his head! "You're in no condition to be doing large scale alchemy yet. Besides, anything that can be done without alchemy should be." That had always been the rule of thumb.

Ed snorted and there was a bitter twist to his smile. "And if alchemy can save possibly hundreds of lives and tons of time that can't be saved any other way, I'll use it. This isn't the war we signed on for, Al. Half the people don't want us here in the first place, and none of them _asked_ us to butt in. The best thing we can do right now is get down to Bueáire, get the situation dealt with, and get the hell out of Aerugo. I'm ending this stale-mate today. If you'd like to watch it should be quite a show." With that he turned and walked out of the tent.

Al sighed and looked over at Brewster. "Shall we? One of us at least should be there to catch him when he collapses."

"Do you really think he'll push himself that far?" Brewster asked as they both headed out after Ed, who was moving faster than he had been able to only a couple of days ago. Al knew that newfound energy probably wouldn't last long.

"I think that anything Ed has in mind that will allow us to force the issue and push for the Capitol is going to take more energy than Ed can handle right now," Al pointed out. "I have no idea what he has in mind specifically though. Either way, I can guarantee you an interesting show."

"As long as I'm not paying for the tickets," Brewster quipped.

* * *

Edward hated being doubted, but he knew that Al had every right to be upset with him. He hadn't lied though. Ed had been very well behaved the last few days, doing everything Knox and Al insisted upon, but with his own purposes in mind. He knew how much energy he needed for this particular transmutation, and if he pulled it off he shouldn't be _too _tired afterwards.

He made himself walk upright and stride as if he had never been injured. It hurt like hell, but Ed gritted his teeth into a smile as he made his way through the camp and right up to the front lines, keeping his senses alert for any incoming fire. It would be really lousy to die in a random explosion before he pulled off the climax of his little operation.

The front lines were a haze of smoke from hours of repeated firing and rising dust. Ed did his best to ignore the blood on the soil. Enough men had died here. It was time to exact a little justice. For a moment Ed wished he had his red coat. It would have made for better drama than his uniform. At least he would have stood out more than any other soldier at a distance.

Ed didn't wait for anyone to notice him, or for Al and Brewster to catch up and try and talk him out of it. He simply clapped his gloved hands together with a resounding slap and dropped them to the ground right on top of the dirt barricade that had been erected days ago.

There was a rumbling sound, and then the earth in front of the Aerugean line seemed to crumble and fall away. From a hundred yards distant, the Ama surged like a giant, living water snake and part of it ran like quicksilver down the trench that formed from a bend in the river down right across the line. As the Aerugean soldiers scrambled back from the sudden tributary the water surged over its banks as well, flooding the farm land plain back_ towards_ Bueáire and completely demolishing most of the Aerugean camp! The tents that were still standing were surely soaked from the floor up a few feet.

The shouting and chaos could barely be heard at this distance, but from the top of the berm Ed could see everything clearly. He kept pumping energy into his transmutation, controlling the water so that it ravaged the camp but never more than a couple of feet deep. He ignored his muscles as they ached then began to shake. There was sweat dripping down his face, but he focused on his work. If he lost his concentration now the river would flow out of control over those lands and probably slaughter the entire enemy army. While that would certainly solve their problem, Ed was going for chaos and retreat, not mass homicide. The water in the distance began to slow then die away as the banks of the Ama slid back into place.

The view in front of his eyes began to waver and swim and Ed lost the transmutation with a sudden jolt, collapsing forward from his hands-and-knee position to almost flat on his face before he caught himself. Breathing heavily he closed his eyes and waited for his ears to stop telling him he was moving when he wasn't.

"Easy there, Brother," Al's familiar soothing tones came from somewhere above him as strong hands caught his shoulders and pulled him upward with gentle firmness. "I told you you'd overdo it."

"I was….expecting this," Ed admitted, panting. He let himself be supported by Al for the time being. He opened his eyes and smirked up at his brother. "I'll bet… we don't get shot at… for a while. You want to… make a push? I recommend… doing it…this afternoon. Break them now and…we'll be strolling into Bueáire in days."

"Enough talking," Al frowned in concern. "Save your strength. Knox is going to have both our hides for this."

"All three," Brewster counted himself in from somewhere outside Ed's field of view. "_Where we go one, we go all_ and all that kind of thing."

"Thanks guys," Ed smiled. The edges of his vision were getting fuzzy and a little black and he closed his eyes again. His heart was still pounding, and Ed knew was going to pass out any minute. "As long as it worked….it was worth it."

Unconsciousness was a welcome escape.

* * *

Alphonse ordered the attack pressed that afternoon, after the enemy had a chance to make some attempt to salvage their camp, but before they had re-established an effective line. "Make sure the ground is dry enough we're not sucked into mire," he told Matthias Wood and the other alchemists. Ed's flood had done its job – Al couldn't avoid the references in his head from Europe that caused him to chuckle inwardly about parting the sea – but perhaps a little too well. They needed to march across that land now, so it needed to be able to support them.

They charged as the sun dipped down towards the horizon, but before it was low enough to disrupt their vision since they were moving to the west. Their entire line moved forward the distance before the alchemists generated a new earthworks for them to shelter behind, and the Aerugeans had no chance of holding against the fire. As the light started to fade, Al could see them retreating and ordered them to cease firing. Tonight though, they would post guards and keep watch so that the enemy could not re-establish itself in the dark.

Al had to hand it to Edward. He might be stubborn, fool-hearty, and stupid, but he was effective. After Ed had passed out Al carried him back to the medical tent where Knox grumbled and ranted under his breath as he checked over every inch of Ed to make sure he hadn't exacerbated any of his injuries. He determined that the worst Ed had done was push himself back into exhaustion. He would probably sleep until tomorrow.

Tomorrow or the day after, depending on how things went, they would break camp and move forward once more.

**July 21****st****, 1952**

"Are you ready to go?" Sara asked Maes as he dropped his recently repacked rucksack on the ground beside hers just outside the Barracks Hotel. Sara couldn't say she was going to miss the place, but she wasn't particularly looking forward to being on the march again either and sleeping in her tent. She was just ready for the war to be over. From the letter she had gotten from Franz just a couple of days before, so was he! It had been full of tender concern, relief to know she was still all right, and how eagerly he was looking forward to their reunion.

"Just about," Maes nodded. "I need to help Elena with her bag first."

"Are you sure she should be coming?" Sara asked. She had asked before, but now it was almost too late and she wasn't entirely sure either of them had really thought this through. "If they catch her at any point without enough protection to capture her, she may not live to get out of this."

"And I may not either," Maes shrugged. "I'm not leaving her behind when she chose to come, Sara. Besides, Elena has some things she wants to accomplish in Bueáire in regards to her family before we go to Central."

"So she's coming to Central with you now too?" Sara arched one eyebrow.

"I should hope so," Cal smirked as he joined them, leaning up against the wall by their bags and dropping his own to the ground. "It's pretty hard to have a wedding if one of the lovebirds is still on the wrong side of the border."

Sara was sure her jaw was somewhere down near her ankles. Wide-eyed, she turned to Maes. "Is this true?" She knew Maes was in love with the woman, and that Elena was completely infatuated with her good looking friend, but_ marriage_? And how had Cal found out before she did?

Maes grinned at her. "Yeah. Elena agreed to marry me a couple of weeks ago. How did _you_ find out?" he stared at Cal with a much less friendly expression. Obviously it was meant to be a secret, or at least kept quiet for now.

"Other than a lucky guess?" Cal asked innocently. He shrugged. "A couple of the female medics figured it out I guess. They were gossiping about it."

And, of course, if girls were saying it, there was a good chance Cal was listening and would remember every detail; especially if he was trying to get a date with one of them at the time. "Isn't this rushing things?" Sara asked, trying not to sound angry or panicked as she looked at Maes. "It's been years since you saw her, and then only two and a half months since she showed up."

"They've spent how much of those two and a half months together?" Cal chuckled. Was he actually standing up for Maes? Sara couldn't believe it. "Though I do think you're insane, Mustang, if for different reasons."

"Go to hell, Whitewater," Maes glowered, calming a little as he pointedly turned back to Sara. "We were friends before. Now, hell, I can't imagine living without her, Sara, or her without me. We've been doing an awful lot of talking you know, and we both want a lot of the same things, we still share a lot of the same interests and I've _never _had my love returned like this. I don't want this feeling to end. No matter what happens, I won't leave her behind. I won't let her suffer anymore."

There was obviously no changing his mind, but the look in Maes' eyes was what gave Sara pause. There was fire in them; loyalty, determination, and real love. She knew what real love looked like. She had seen it so many times: her parents, her aunt and uncle, even Maes' own parents; Aldon and Cassie too and, at least she was fairly certain now, herself and Franz. She had watched them together. She couldn't deny it was love; she just worried about compatibility. Romances forged in heat and desperate situations were something of legend – or at least cheap romance novels – and she didn't want to see Maes hurt again. Watching him though, she had the instinctive insight that he wouldn't be, and hoped that was right.

"You're a die-hard romantic, Maes," Sara shook her head and smiled. "I guess I should be congratulating you. I really do hope you're both happy."

"Thanks," Maes relaxed, and Sara realized that her approval actually still meant a lot to her friend. That and perhaps he hoped her feelings reflected the way their friends and family at home would feel when he brought home the daughter of an _Aerugean diplomat_ to be his bride! "Let's try and keep this low key for a little while longer though? It would probably not be good for the Aerugeans to get wind of it."

Caution Sara understood. "Of course," she promised then glanced at Cal.

"I won't repeat it," Cal waved one hand in a placating gesture. "I hope she's worth it, Firebrand. Excuse me, I need to report in." With that, Cal sauntered off to find his commanding officer.

"He's just jealous," Sara snorted, watching him go. "I really think the only reason Cal won't settle is because he's been burned before." It wasn't something she thought about often, but she remembered, way back when they had been students together, that he seemed a little more aware of how easy it was to be hurt romantically than some of the rest of their class. Cal was a womanizer because it was less painful than really investing emotion and trust in a relationship. It was kind of sad really.

"Probably," Maes agreed with a nod. "It's lonely being afraid to love." His tone softened.

"Go get Elena's bag and be mushy upstairs instead of getting melancholy on me," Sara laughed, shoving Maes in the shoulder. "I'm sure she's waiting for you." That was what loved ones always did for the people they loved it seemed; they were always waiting: for the chance to be together, for one to come home, for the other to finish what they needed to; but always waiting. Sara was actually glad that it was her out here, and not Franz. She had never been very good at being the one left behind to wait. If she had been, she would never have been in a war at fourteen.

Franz was the one waiting, and the fact that he didn't hold their time apart against her was something that Sara definitely appreciated more than she could put into words. What he didn't say outright in the letters, that seemed hidden in the lines, was what made her jump most at Maes' startling revelation of engagement. Sara was fairly certain that when she got home, Franz would want to discuss the very same thing. And really, she was looking forward to it.

**July 24****th****, 1952**

Breaking the siege of Havah had occurred with surprising ease once supplies and men dumped into the city from the North. With the northern division of the Aerugean army defeated and captured or dead, the government also seemed to be rethinking their position, and had simply begun to withdraw; the army retreating back towards the Capitol, but with their eyes always on the Amestrians.

That was why Brigadier General Kane's soldiers found themselves marching southward now with relative ease, accompanying a large number of the soldiers from the Second Division. For three days they had been marching and almost nothing had happened. They had seen the signs of the Aerugean military retreating but not a hair off a human head beyond that.

No longer cooped up in the city, a lot of the soldiers were in surprisingly good spirits. It was nice to be moving towards a goal, especially when it didn't mean getting shot at. The chatter around the fires at night was full of more vigor and optimism than Sara had heard from them in weeks. It wasn't the over-confidence of the first few days, but it was good to know people were in better spirits.

Sara spent most of the evenings with her battalion. With all the work she'd been doing with the alchemists during the siege she still felt guilty, like she hadn't been giving them enough of her attention. Tybalt continued to shake his head and tell her not to worry. Everyone understood that orders were orders and it wasn't like she had at all neglected her duties. All of her reports had been written and filed on time hadn't they? She still did inspections as needed and made sure they were trained, rested, clothed, and treated for any conditions they might have.

"You make me sound like I train dogs," Sara had chuckled at one point.

"Sometimes, that _is _what you're doing," Tybalt had replied.

The men seemed glad to have her back. Sara felt at home with her soldiers, and often they were less complicated. She didn't see Cal at all those three days, and very little of Maes. Usually as soon as the camp was set up for the night, she could be sure that Maes was somewhere around a fire with the unit to which he was actually assigned, with Elena tucked up right beside him. Sara _did_ find it reassuring – or at least a reaffirmation of Maes' sincerity and honest intentions – that Elena slept in a tent with some of the female medics, and Maes continued to bunk in with his assigned tent mates.

Sara was considering how much distance they could probably cover by nightfall when, about two hundred yards ahead of her place in line, she heard a huge explosion. Glancing up sharply, all she could see was a column of smoke rising up ahead. Then there was another explosion, and another. After that, the air went silent save for the sounds of someone screaming briefly and the chaotic milling of men ahead of them as the column stopped cold.

_Mines. _The word came down the lines like wildfire. The road, and the forests to who knew how far on either side, had been strewn with buried land mines!

The chaos ahead did not stay there long. Almost before Sara had a chance to fully absorb what was happening there were shouts from further up the line toward them and shots rang out. Soldiers pulled their rifles, aimed, and started shooting back into the trees a hundred yards off from the road. They were being ambushed!

"How the hell did they get past our scouts?" Sara growled as she dropped to the ground, sketching a transmutation circle in the dirt and erecting a barrier along the road as far as she could manage. Others were doing the same in either direction so that there was one long wall down the length of the road.

"Killed them most likely," Tybalt replied as he dropped down beside her, his gun aimed over the wall as the shooting began in earnest.

"I guess it doesn't really matter now," Sara sighed as she ducked down and pulled her own weapon. It was harder to attack with alchemy when she couldn't see the enemy. She'd save her energy and do things the old fashioned way for the moment. She had barely set up to aim though, when gunfire came from a whole different direction. What the hell?  
"Aerugeans to the East!" someone shouted and Sara spun around. The bastards had somehow managed to line up their remaining soldiers in the woods on _both_ sides of the road, and the road in front mined…

"This is a travesty," Sara dropped her rifle and ducked, raising a wall on the other side of the road without even moving from her current position, sketching another circle and jamming her hands down into the dirt. "I can't believe we've been tricked this badly!" They'd _had_ scouts. Most of them had reported back. Why hadn't they figured out what was going on? She began barking orders and the units under her command ran to obey, splitting evenly between both walls. They couldn't move forward, and they couldn't retreat. There was too much of a column behind them.

Around her, despite the walls, there were cries as people went down dead or wounded. She heard another mine go ahead of them; then another. Without the screaming, Sara guessed that, under fire, there were soldiers methodically doing their best to blow the remaining mines and clear the road. Hopefully they were making use of the alchemists to do it, though lobbing large rocks could be fairly effective.

For several minutes, there was nothing to do but shoot and hope that the situation didn't get any worse. They had either been betrayed or just horrendously out-maneuvered by what they had thought was a quickly retreating enemy.

Then there was a rapid-fire series of explosions up the road that went off so suddenly that everybody jumped, and the firing stopped momentarily on both sides.

"What was that?" A lieutenant beside her asked, wide-eyed.

"The road being cleared," Sara replied. She didn't know who had done it, but she would bet a star off her shoulders that it was an alchemist.

The firing began again, but the enemy seemed to have realized that they were still outnumbered, outgunned, and their trap hadn't worked. Within another ten minutes they withdrew and not another shot came at the Amestrians from either side of the road.

They didn't move for another half an hour, waiting. Perhaps it was paranoia, but that attack should have never been allowed to happen in the first place. "I want to know who we've lost, Tybalt," Sara said finally when the order came down to reassemble, gather the dead, and continue marching. They would _not_ be making camp here. "All of them by the time we head out. I want a list."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel." Tybalt looked grim, but he vanished into the crowd of uniforms to do just that while Sara got the living organized. It took another half an hour before they were all on the march. As they got moving, Tybalt was once more at Sara's side.

"We lost Majors Perrs and Martin," Tybalt looked a little gray in the face. They had been two of their more reliable officers, and two Sara had started to consider friends. She would need to see about appointing soldiers from the ranks to take their places unless Kane had people he wanted promoted to fill the gaps.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sara sighed. "Please, continue." She listened in stoic silence as Tybalt listed off the rest of the dead, then moved on to a list of wounded. It hurt – she knew every name – but she did not want to let any of them be forgotten.  


* * *

They marched on for several more hours before stopping for the day. It was mid-afternoon when they stopped, still earlier than usual. Sara saw to it that her men were set up and resting before she went looking for Kane. Banes said that Kane was in the field hospital talking with the doctors and taking stock of the situation. Sara headed that way.

As she had been told, Kane was inside, looking ashen as he watched one of the doctors patching up a soldier with an injured arm. "Brigadier General, Sir," Sara addressed him when she stopped beside him.

Kane did not respond. He didn't even look up or acknowledge her presence. His expression was even grimmer up close.

"Sky Fire?" Sara tried something a little more personal. It wasn't like Kane was the only General around.

That got his attention. Kane looked up at her. "What is it, Twilight?"

Sara tried not to look at all the injured soldiers around them or listen to the cries or occasional scream amidst the chatter and noise. They were almost as bad as the line of body-bags outside that would be loaded on a train in the next couple of days and shipped back to Amestris for proper burial. "What _happened_? I thought we had intelligence to prevent this kind of thing."

"I checked into that," Kane nodded. "We had two scouts who didn't come back this morning. We found them…. They were left dead in the road. It was when he stepped out to investigate that—"

He? Sara knew Kane cared about all of the soldiers under his command, but he was talking like he knew that one personally, which almost certainly made it a State Alchemist. Oh hell! _Please, not Maes. _"Kane," screw propriety, "Who was it? What happened?"

The Sky Fire Alchemist swallowed. "Whitewater; Franklin's battalion had the front, and Fischer went forward to check the bodies. He stepped on the first mine."

Sara's body went cold for a moment, despite the warm air. "Is he dead?"

Kane shook his head then and Sara relaxed a little. She still wasn't overly fond of Cal some days, but she didn't wish him dead. "No, but he's out of this war. It- well it wasn't pretty. They've got him back there right now and…" It was so strange to see Kane hesitate. "They're amputating part of his right leg. Part of it's already completely gone from the blast, and it's starting to get infected."

"Damn," Sara whispered. The smell of blood and disinfectant was getting to her, and she felt momentarily dizzy. Her shoulder twinged as she laid one hand on the table to brace herself. "That's awful."

"Sit down," Kane replied thickly. "I'm not needed here anymore than you are, and I know you don't even much like him, but…"

"But he's one of us," Sara replied, settling down on a vacant stool. "I have men here too," she said softly. Fortunately, none of hers who were injured were in nearly as dire straits. If they hadn't been killed outright, they had grazing wounds or minor injuries like sprained wrists, and one black eye from one soldier accidentally elbowing another in the scramble. "I think I'll wait."

"Good, then you won't mind being my next patient," a voice came from behind her. Sara turned around and looked into the face of a male doctor of just-under medium height who looked to be about her Dad's age, with dark curly hair. He was one of the ones who had come down with the Second Division. "General Kane has already ignored my advice about getting some rest before he collapses. I hope you won't do the same Lieutenant Colonel Elric."

Sara almost asked how he knew who she was, but figured she _was_ one of the only alchemists with her rank in the Division, and definitely the youngest, and the only female. It wasn't a difficult guess. "I'm resting," she sighed, gesturing to the stool and wincing again as her shoulder twinged. It had been bothering her ever since the battle that morning; a mild pull she was sure, nothing to concern herself over.

"And you've got at least one minor injury," the doctor chuckled, but he had kind eyes; the sort that made Sara feel like they ought to be familiar. "Let's just make sure you don't have anymore. If you want to stay here and wait on the State Alchemist we've got back there," he gestured towards the curtained off surgery ward with a grimace, "than you'll listen."

"Yes, Doctor," Sara nodded. She removed her dusty jacket and waited patiently as the man examined her eyes, nose, throat, and all the usual things. Kane, with a glance of annoyance at the doctor, stepped out of the way to give them some privacy and moved on down the line of patients.

"You don't recognize me do you?" The doctor asked with a chuckle as he stood up.

Sara blinked and looked up at the face. She should, she thought, but she couldn't place him. She was just too tired to pull up any relevant memories. "I'm sorry," she shook her head after a moment.

"I'm not sure if I should be surprised, hurt, or relieved," he chuckled then. "I've treated you before, Sara, for another arm injury, much worse than this one; though you were a lot younger then."

Arm? The only time Sara had ever injured her arm had been when she broke it when she was three. She remembered the incident, but only in a blur of images that ranged from crystal clear to blurred by panic and tears. A lot of that stretch of time she didn't remember at all because after falling into the river she had been unconscious a lot. "You were the doctor in Resembool?"

He laughed. "So you do remember me, and apparently not with any dislike for all the uncomfortable things I had to do setting your arm and getting water out of your lungs." The man held out a hand for her to shake. "Pitt Rendak at your service."

Now that _name_ Sara knew. While she had never seen the man after, she knew that he had kept in touch with her parents and her uncle; they were all old childhood friends. Recognition hit at once. "I _do _know who you are," she chuckled, "Though most of the stories involve infamous exploits from well before I was born."

"Nice to know my wilder days are someone's fond memories," Pitt laughed as he stepped around and began feeling the muscles of her right shoulder. "Move your arm in a few circles for me please."

Sara complied, and her arm ached but it wasn't any worse. "I thought you weren't military," she said, trying to remember what else her parents had told her.

"I'm not, technically," Pitt replied as he came back around in front of her. "But when they need experienced doctors, well I couldn't say no. I felt like this was where I needed to be. Your arm looks fine, but I appreciate your cooperation. Take it easy on it if you have the opportunity."

"Thanks," Sara put her arm back down. "I wish I knew how Dad was. There are almost no reports from the Eastern Division these days; at least, not that they're sending down anything useful from Central. I know he was injured recently, and so was Uncle Al, but other than that the reports say they're still in command so I don't know what to think." There had been a _single_ report of their being injured but apparently still in command, so Sara had no idea how bad the injuries had been. Knowing her father, it could have been just about_ anything _and he would have insisting on finishing the mission. Uncle Al was more reasonable, so it probably wasn't serious on his part.

"Knowing Edward and Alphonse, we'll see them in Bueáire no matter what," Pitt commented reassuringly. "Well I need to get back to work," he smiled gently. "But we should talk sometime. Hopefully I'll have a chance to catch up with the guys in Bueáire, if there's any of it left by the time they get through with it."

"Thanks," Sara felt a little less dire as the Doctor turned and headed over to where another soldier was getting his arm bandaged.

"Who was that?" Maes asked, joining her.

"Doctor Pitt Rendak. He's a friend of my folks' from when they were all kids in Resembool." Sara turned and noticed a bandage on Maes' right hand. "Are you all right?"

"What, this?" Maes almost looked surprised that she had commented. "Yeah. It's just a small scratch on the back, really. It didn't even need stitches. Did you hear about Fischer?"

"I heard," Sara nodded. "I'm waiting to hear how it goes."

"They're almost done." Sara looked the other way to find Elena walking towards them wiping her hands on a towel. "The surgery is almost over." She looked a little pale, and Sara guessed that Elena had probably seen it for herself. The other woman went right into Maes' arms and, without hesitation; he enfolded them around her as she shook slightly. "I don't like blood," she whispered after a moment. "Not that much."

"No one does," Maes replied softly, stroking Elena's hair as Sara watched.

After a minute she stood up again. "I should get back to work," Elena wiped a tear from her eye with her finger. "I'll see you later."

It was a very long half hour before one of the surgeons walked over to the alchemists. Kane rejoined them at that point, still looking grim. The surgeon addressed him directly. "Brigadier General," he nodded. "Major Fisher is out of surgery and doing well, given his condition. We had to remove what little remained up to a couple of inches below the right knee. He _is_ conscious now if you wish to speak with him, but we've given him the strongest analgesic we have and a sedative, so you won't have long." He looked at the crowd. "The General and Lieutenant Colonel may come in," he said, apparently choosing by rank as a way of simplifying matters.

Maes shrugged and nodded. Sara hadn't really expected him to argue given he and Cal were civil out of necessity most of the time. She and Kane followed the surgeon into a different area from where they were doing the surgeries; a cordoned off area for recovery where the critical patients were not out in the chaos of the general hospital..

Sara had never seen Cal so still or pale. Hell, she'd never seen him so _subdued._ His eyes were open, if barely, and his only indication of noticing their arrival was his eyes tracking them as they crossed the room to his bedside. He was flat on his back and covered in a sheet. Sara was glad for that. While she'd certainly seen things as gruesome, she didn't really want to see his mangled leg even if it was bandaged. The oddness of the silhouette under the sheet where part of his leg was missing was obvious enough. It was funny how it never bothered Sara to see her father with his auto-mail off for maintenance, but knowing that only a few hours ago the stump under the sheets had _been_ a whole flesh limb made a huge difference.

"Whitewater," Kane nodded. "How are you feeling?"

"Drugged," Cal quipped despite his obvious exhaustion. "Better than the pain though," he added. Sara didn't comment that she could tell he was still feeling it, if not as badly.

"I'm sure," Kane smirked. "Rest up. You'll be on the first train home to Central. I'm almost jealous; you'll be home before the rest of us."

Cal snorted. "What good's it do me?" he asked. "Can't impress the girls like this."

"A wounded war hero?" Sara chuckled, trying to add a little levity to the awkward conversation. "They'll be all over you, idiot. Besides, you get auto-mail if you want it, paid and clear."

"Chicks are into auto-mail?" Cal's eyes lit up even though he looked slightly out of it.

"So much for you being an expert on women," Sara rolled her eyes and smirked. "I'll make sure to tell my Mom to make it something totally tasteless to match your personality."

"Hey!" Cal objected, then winced and lay still. His eyes blinked closed a couple of times before he focused again. He would be unconscious soon. "Don't you dare."

"Relax," Kane shook his head. "That's months off yet anyway."

It was true. Cal would need to get home, rest, and heal up some before the initial surgery could be performed. Sara shrugged. "A lot of them do," she finally answered his question.

There was an amused gleam in Cal's eye even as he drifted off. "You didn't seem to mind the real thing….." Then he was out, and Sara was glad of it. He looked terrible. Of course, she hadn't expected him to look any different.

"What did he mean?" Kane asked as they were escorted back out. Maes was no longer around, probably back to work like most everyone else.

"I don't know what you mean, Sir," Sara replied, her back going rigid under her uniform. The last thing she ever wanted to do was explain something that had happened years ago and was no longer relevant to her life and her relationships except as a past note.

Kane looked suspicious. "The comment about the real thing?" He said much less subtly.

Sara almost smacked him when she realized what Kane was fishing for. He wanted to know if she and Cal had done something _recently_. As if that wasn't entirely illegal under military regulations, and Sara would ever consider such a thing. "Old joke," she replied flatly, "A _very _old joke that I've never found funny."

That seemed to appease her commanding officer, and Sara was glad Kane didn't push further. "I'm going off duty," Kane commented as they reached the door to the tent. "If I'm needed I'll be in my tent." The implication – which he didn't need to say, but Sara understood – was that his retiring for the night would almost certainly involve a good stiff drink and some sleep eventually and only if he was_ direly _needed should he be interrupted.

"Understood, Sir," Sara replied softly. If it wouldn't have knocked her completely unconscious for hours, she would have been very tempted to join him. However, that put her as one of the officers in charge for the evening. Which meant it was time to go inspect the rest of the camps besides her own and make sure everything was in order and everyone's needs were met. Sara sighed and headed out only a few steps behind Kane. Her work was never done.


	18. Chapter 18

**July 26****th****, 1952**

What greeted Winry as she stepped off the train in the Aerugean town of Marnot was what she had expected from the briefings she had received on the trip down. Still it pained her to see the large numbers of dead and wounded being loaded on trains back up toward Amestris as they were stable and capable of travel. There were many that were not, and that was why Winry was here. When she had volunteered, Elicia had cheered her, the rest of her friends had understood, and Breda had only given a bemused shake of his head. No one tried to talk her out of it.

"Mrs. Elric," a younger man, perhaps thirty years old, standing on the platform noticed her and came over, holding out his hand and giving her a friendly smile. "I'm Alec Pullman, the primary auto-mail mechanic assigned to this half of the First Division. Thank you so much for volunteering your time and skills to help us out here."

"I haven't even started yet," Winry couldn't help smiling back despite the morbid sights around them. "Shouldn't you see what good I am before you thank me?"

Alec shook his head in amusement. "All of the auto-mail I've been maintaining for the last few months _you_ designed ma'am. It's amazingly robust, durable yet light and the movements are so smooth. I don't know how you managed it."

"Trade secrets," Winry teased, silently pleased to hear the praise. "I can show you a few tricks if there's time if you like, but I'm here to work for _you_, not the other way around."

"I'll show you the facility then and we can get started," Alec seemed to relax just a little, and Winry wondered if he had worried that having someone with her experience around might mean she wouldn't take him seriously. There were some auto-mail engineers who were complete snobs about their work, Winry knew, and while she was particular she wasn't _that _egotistical.

"That would be great," Winry agreed as she followed him off the platform. "It's been years since I had the chance to do work in the field." At_ least _since she hadn't had to worry about chasing down Edward. Of course, here she was again almost doing just that.

"I was also informed that you would be helping out with other nursing services," Alec nodded. "Fortunately we're part of the same operation, pardon the pun. The most complicated work we've had was minor surgery on someone's partially separated port and a case where we had to completely reconstruct a hand. When we're not working with auto-mail, all of us have been helping out around the hospital."

"I had heard the fighting was intense," Winry commented as she took in the sheer number of wounded as they walked into the tent and down an aisle of beds towards the area designated as the auto-mail shop. Despite the numbers she had seen being boarded onto the trains, there were still more in need of care.

"Eventually we'll get them all shipped home," Alec seemed to read her thoughts. "But the trains can only hold so many. We do what we can here. Right now we do have a back-up on auto-mail repairs on otherwise uninjured soldiers," he got down to business with a smooth change of topic. "Those soldiers will mostly be heading South to Havah and then on to Bueáire; those that don't stay up here and guard the railways of course. The Aerugeans won't give up."

"And us?" Winry asked.

Alec chuckled. "We follow the fighting."

That made sense. Winry was glad she hadn't worn anything that couldn't get stained or otherwise completely ruined. This was going to be dirty – and apparently often bloody – work. This was what she had said she wanted though, and she wasn't going to turn away now, not after seeing the faces of so many people who needed help. "Then let's get to work," she said as she pulled out her apron and gloves.

"Don't you want to at least see to quarters first?" Alec looked a little surprised.

Winry shrugged and grinned. "That can always be taken care of later. There's work that obviously needs to be done now."

Alec smiled. "I wish everyone I worked with was that dedicated. I don't know if you'll feel the same way in a week or four, but I appreciate that enthusiasm while it's here."

"I think you'll find that this isn't work I tire of easily," Winry shrugged and tied on her apron. "Now, who's the first patient?"

After one more bemused look, Alec shook his head. "I've got three maintenance jobs that need doing on the patients; a busted elbow, a frozen gear in an ankle, and several problems with a foot. Take your pick."

"I'll start with the foot," Winry replied, picking the most complicated job to tackle first. It would likely take the longest and require the most attention. After that, the other two would seem easy.

"Then I'll bring the Lieutenant in question in," Alec chuckled and left the room, leaving Winry all by herself for a moment. Either Alec didn't have a lot of dedicated help with the auto-mail, or they were just so swamped with injured that those problems were more important. He had assigned her to this to free up other hands. Or at least, that was Winry's read on the situation. Besides, she was an expert, and who wouldn't put the expert in place of amateurs when given the opportunity? She would just have to make sure to live up to her own reputation.

**July 27****th****, 1952**

"What do you mean they have reinforcements?" Ed had to resist the urge to shout any louder at the nervous looking Sergeant standing in front of them. He was one of their forward scouts. Then Ed spun and glared at the communications officer who swallowed uneasily. "And why the hell didn't we pick _that _up?"

"Calm down, Ed," Al commented flatly.

Ed glared at his brother. "Calm down? They just got another_ two-thousand men_, Alphonse, and fresh ammunition." That was why they were still limping forward, being worn down with every engagement.

"They must have been using manual runners," the communications officer answered Ed's question. "That's the most logical explanation for why we didn't hear anything over the airwaves. It's not like _we _have that option."

"Thank you," Brewster nodded at the two subordinates. "You can go now."

"Thank you, Sir," the Sergeant saluted and both of them vacated from the fury that was the presence of an angry Fullmetal Alchemist.

Ed fumed, pacing irritably back and forth in the command tent. His side hurt, but the dull pain was almost satisfying; it matched his frustration. They had lost five hundred soldiers in the jungles. Very few since, but it galled and Ed didn't like to think of the fact that he had ordered those men and women to their deaths. The injured were healing though and really, in comparison to some wars, the casualties were surprisingly low. Ed just hoped they could keep it that way.

After Ed's display seven days before, the Aerugeans had been retreating in front of them and the Eastern Division had taken advantage of that fact, pressing forward and keeping on their tails, even firing the occasional volley when the enemy tried to stop and camp for the evening to keep them on their toes. If they could keep pressing them back than they should reach Bueáire sometime around the same time the Northern force did.

"We'll come up with something," Alphonse studied the map as Brewster marked the locations and numbers of the new units that they had just confirmed had joined the retreating Aerugeans. "Sit down, Edward, or I'll send you back to Knox and tell him you were doing something stupid, like being out of bed."

Ed dropped into the nearest chair with a glare of consternation. He hated being babied. No matter how old they got, Al always seemed to act like he needed to keep an eye on Ed and take care of him. Of course, Ed had to admit, that was because with Al around he usually got into less trouble, or got out of it with less damage. Though this particular mission seemed to have blown both rules completely out of the water. "Tell me we have _some_ kind of advantage over them even though we're now outnumbered and probably out-gunned."

"We have better trained alchemists," Brewster smirked, "And the high ground."

"But they're between us and our objective," Ed pointed out. "If they were trying to come toward us, being up on the high ground would be a lot more advantageous."

"But look at the lay of the land," Brewster gestured, still smiling confidently, and Ed leaned forward to see what he meant. The topography was clearly marked, and Ed began to understand just what the Major General was talking about. The _high ground_ extended along a ridge to the North of the enemy, and a partial ridge that ran to the South. It currently hid the Ama River from view and had been part of what was frustrating Edward, because he couldn't use the same trick again without extending a lot more effort.

"Can we just go around them?" Al asked, sounding skeptical but hopeful at the same time.

"Not without being attacked," Brewster shook his head. "But we're looking at combat no matter what we do. What I think we can do is organize a simultaneous attack from three different directions at once, mostly surround them, and if they don't surrender we should be able to tear into them badly enough to discourage them from sending more troops."

Which meant they were looking at instigating the battle while they had some control over their situation. It was almost certain to be a high-casualty battle; hopefully more for the Aerugeans than for them. "We'll want to get into position without being seen," Ed commented as his mind started ticking off the possibilities of the plan Brewster had already begun hatching. "So that means night movements and without lights if we want to be as invisible as possible."

"It also means making sure the camp seems normal so they don't suspect anything," Al nodded. "If the entire place goes quiet they're sure to know something's up."

"Good point," Ed nodded; his irritation with his brother forgotten. "So whichever units are going to attack from the _front_ should act like normal, and be a little louder than usual to sound like more men."

"The usual diversions?" Brewster chuckled.

"Exactly." Ed liked this idea more and more. "Two thirds of the army moves around to the North and South behind the ridges in an even split. Though the Aerugeans have to know this kind of thing is possible, so we'll need to be alert for scouts from their side or possible ambushes."

"Then we muster the front line as normal in the morning," Al pointed to their existing walled trench marked on the map. "The line will look completely normal the way we've been cycling out troops, so that shouldn't arouse any suspicions."

"We can start the attack a little early." The last thing Ed wanted was to give the enemy enough time to react. "And we're going to have to compensate for the difference in ammunition with alchemy." There was just no way to avoid it. The enemy would use every weapon they had at their disposal and the Amestrians could afford to do no differently. Ed's conscience told him that they were skirting close to the line that had been crossed in Ishbal, even if they hadn't crossed it _yet. _Ed told his conscience to _stuff it. _They had used alchemy in the Xing War honorably, and in the Drachman dispute as well. This was war, and not using their_ heavy guns _would only get his men killed. If Ed had to choose who _the people_ were in this situation, that meant the Amestrians under his command. There were no civilians out here to muddle things, thank goodness.

To Ed's surprise, Al didn't object. His brother nodded somberly. "We should see about taking out any tanks and canons first," he said, "Then see what else is necessary."

"Right," Ed agreed. He just hoped that when the time came they did not have differing opinions over what constituted _necessary. _

**July 28****th****, 1952**

The pre-dawn darkness was almost thick enough to touch, which was exactly the way Edward had hoped it would be. Ed could barely see the men ten feet from him along the near side of the north ridge, let alone the rest of the line that had settled as silently into place as they could manage hours ago, while the group under Brewster's command crept up along the south ridge and Alphonse took command of the soldiers left in camp.

Ed was still a little surprised that he was out here, given the fuss that Doctor Knox and Alphonse had both put up at the point where Ed insisted on taking part in the battle itself. Brewster hadn't looked particularly pleased either, but he knew better than to get into the fray unnecessarily. The man preferred fights he could win, and that was part of why Ed was sure this plan was a solid one. The Major General didn't take unnecessary risks, and he was fairly confident in this plan despite the large number of variables.

The argument had only been won by the fact that Ed had sworn up and down that his primary role was going to be giving orders and over-sight, not charging down in the front into the fray. Now that he was out here… well that was still his _intent. _His side still ached if he moved faster than a basic walk and when he stood up and sat down. He was also tired out much more easily than he preferred, and when he had asked about it Knox had smirked and said it was because he wasn't resting enough. Hell, he spent at least fourteen hours a day resting as it was! That included sleep, though Ed didn't bother to mention the usual nightmares. Knox knew he had them, and while they often meant he woke up during the night or slept fitfully, sleep was sleep and Ed wasn't going to let Knox win on a _technicality. _When they weren't in imminent danger, Ed would rest better. Until then telling him to sit still and take it easy was like telling a dog not to scratch fleas.

They waited until dawn tinged the sky, sitting in silence but ready for the attack. On the other side of the ridge Ed could hear the Aerugeans beginning to stir for the day and it took all his willpower to make himself wait to give the orders. The signal would be when Alphonse's men started firing. Then the two other groups would attack; Ed's group first, and then Brewster's men about ten minutes later after the Aerugeans were already engaged in combat with the other two units. The alchemists were to try and take out the big guns immediately and then revert to the defensive as much as possible. But they had been told to use their own discretion as to when more direct force was needed. Edward and Alphonse had trained them all just in the case of situations like this, and Ed trusted the alchemists he had picked for this mission to be able to make that call.

The first shots rang out with a sudden burst that sent birds whirling from the trees. Moments later Ed heard return shots from the Aerugean army and knew that they were engaging Al's men. He counted for a solid minute before bellowing the order. His men popped their heads over the ridge, keeping low to avoid getting hit, and fired down on the men encamped below.

The Aerugeans responded exactly as the three Amestrian Generals had hoped they would. They did not pull any of their soldiers away from Al's line, but instead put several units on Edward's, splitting their force and using fresh men. The strategy right now was to tire men and make them expend ammunition.

The alchemists were next. Ed watched with some amusement as the tanks and old fashioned canon – which were as yet unmanned – all blew as they were engulfed in blue alchemic energy and their fuel tanks exploded or the metal was transmuted into useless lumps, along with the ammunition for them. There would be a lot of very angry gunners down there!

Right on schedule ten minutes from Ed's orders, Brewster's men appeared on the opposite ridge, also firing down into the Aerugeans. The camp below was entirely awake and alert now and Ed wasn't surprised that the reaction to that attack was almost immediate. The Aerugean army wasn't badly trained but they were definitely fighting a losing battle.

At least, that was what Ed thought until one of the events that they had rather been expecting occurred. The Amestrians _were_ outnumbered, and they had only enough men to cover the Aerugeans on three sides. That was fine since they hoped to push them back to Bueáire, but it also gave the Aerugeans a little room to maneuver. The two thousand fresh men were put to work, coming around within another half hour to make an attempt on Ed's units' right flank. Ed had no choice but to divert man-power to protecting it. He had thirty-two hundred men at his command at the moment, but he was facing more than four thousand in dealing with both forces.

"Wood!" Ed motioned Matthias forward. The other alchemist hurried to his position, keeping low to avoid any stray bullets. Other than poking his head up occasionally to watch the battle and reports from his subordinate officers, Ed had been keeping low, relying on his other senses to tell him where people were and what was going on.

"What are you orders, Fullmetal?" Wood dropped in beside him with an air of anxious eagerness to be doing something more useful than twisting metal.

"Get creative," Ed grinned at him. "We need that flank protected and those brigades preferably _otherwise engaged _until we can throw more force at them. Do you think you can handle that?"

"If I can't, blame my teacher," Wood smirked at him; then he was off, moving to the west and down.

It happened too fast for Ed to process all at once. One moment Matthias was jogging away from him then, less than ten yards away, a huge eruption from the earth engulfed him, leaving a crater three feet deep and several across and all Ed could see were the remains of a body that had been a living friend and colleague only moments before. They seemed to scatter in slow motion, falling to the earth in eerie silence.

Moments later, Ed's senses returned and he realized he was on his feet; had already been moving toward the other alchemist even before the explosion had been complete. He looked down and saw blood at his feet; and an auto-mail foot still attached to what remained of its port.

Overwhelmed momentarily by nausea and grief, Ed dropped to his knees, vomiting until his stomach was empty. It eased his stomach, but not the anger that welled up inside of him. Logic told him that it was one more needless death, another soldier, no different from the rest who had already died under his command in this war, and others. Logic was cold; Ed _wanted _the heat. Matthias had been with him since the very first class he and Al had taught for the State. He was more than another State Alchemist; he was a friend. His wife and two kids were waiting at home for a man of whom there wasn't enough left to even attempt to send him home if they could.

"Damn it!" Ed let the scream rip from his throat; let himself feel the grief he had been bottling up day after day as his men died in the jungles and fields of Aerugo; let himself feel the guilt, the frustration, and he slammed his palms together and jammed them into the dirt, collapsing as all the alchemical energy he could draw surged through him.

The men charging up against the Amestrian right-most flank barely saw it coming. All they registered was what looked like a tidal wave of dirt and loose rocks rising high into the air between them and the Amestrians, then rolling forward with a deafening thunder as it shoved them backwards, knocked them out of the way, then crashed down on any unfortunate enough to still be in the way.

Everything went suddenly silent.

For several seconds, Ed was sure it was just his ears, as it had been moments before as he watched Matthias die. He lay flat on his face in the dirt, his mouth still foul with bile and his heart pounding in his chest, his side ached and his body complained that he had over-extended himself _far_ beyond his current physical capabilities. The silence stretched on, until he heard the soft clatter of men moving with rifles. He tried to open his eyes, but his body objected strenuously even to that much and all of his energy – emotional and otherwise – was simply spent. Ed decided it was best to just lie still. It wasn't as if he could do anything else at the moment.

The sounds picked up; people moving, talking, and sometimes shouting, but no more gunfire. That was good. The battle was over, though Ed had no idea how long it had been. Sounds seemed muted even though he registered them as he drifted, his body aching and heavy. He felt hands on him eventually, and while he did not immediately recognize who they belonged to, he knew the voices were speaking Amestrian. He was in friendly hands. _Now_ it was all right to pass out.

* * *

Even without seeing it, Alphonse knew that _something _had set Edward off. No other alchemist he knew – except perhaps Roy Mustang, Maes, or Sara – could have performed a transmutation that massive and yet finely aimed. Not a single Amestrian had been caught in the wave that had killed – on estimation – at least _a thousand_ Aerugean soldiers in a matter of seconds.

It had been enough to stun _everyone _into a temporary cease fire. In the aftermath, Al had been unsurprised to see the Aerugeans retreat back to the edges of their camp then, with guns still aimed at the enemy, begin to very quickly break camp and beat a hasty retreat, not even bothering to pick up their dead, though they _did_ gather the wounded into their trucks. It had been a huge relief as far as that went, but Al spent all of it worrying about just what had occurred on the north-western end of their battle line!

Two of the Colonels under Ed's command brought the General's unconscious form back between them, heading straight for the medical tent with all haste. Al's immediate response had been to want to break off and see what was going on, but Brewster had taken his men to _encourage _the Aerugeans to move quickly, and that left Al in command and in charge of making sure all of their clean up got done, as well as at least dealing with the Aerugean dead as well. No one would be coming back for the bodies soon. They at least deserved to be buried.

So it was late in the afternoon before Al was able to tear himself away from duties and go check on his brother. Damn it, he had _told _Ed to take it easy! There was a tear in his eye that he forced back as he looked down at his brother's pale, unconscious form. It was a sight he had seen far too much of lately.

**July 29****th****, 1952**

The Amestrians camped in the same place one more day; waiting for Brewster's Brigade to return, so Al got some sleep only when hustled out of the medical tent by Knox himself and told he needed rest just like any other mortal.

Edward did not awaken until the next morning. Al returned first thing and waited. There was something that had bothered him all night long – ever since the battle really – and that was what in the world could have possibly caused his brother to lose control so badly as to use a transmutation that was so obviously going to kill a large number of people? He did not want to consider that Ed could have pulled it off entirely in cold blood.

The first clue he had that Ed was awake was a groan that came from his brother's dry lips. "It's not fair to feel this lousy without something equivalently fantastic in exchange."

"From that reference," Al quipped dryly, "I'll assume you're referring to either really good sex or fifteen year old scotch." He wouldn't have minded a little of both personally. He had spent the better part of the night tossing and turning. When he slept, he dreamed alternately of battles and Elicia. Lately, the latter more than the former. That was what made him want the scotch. He had settled for a lousy cup of tea.

"I hurt _everywhere,_" was Ed's reply as his eyes cracked open. The expression on his face was unreadable; a rare occurrence. "Is it over?"

"It was over yesterday," Al informed him. "You've been unconscious for over twenty-four hours. What were you _thinking_, Ed, pulling a dangerous stunt like that? You could have killed our men too!" The anger that rolled inside him startled Al. It had been a long time since he had been truly_ furious_ with his brother. "You could have killed _yourself_."

Ed turned his face and looked the other way. "I know," he replied in a voice barely more than a whisper. "But I didn't…did I?"

"No," Al admitted, "To both counts. That doesn't make it any less idiotic, or _right. _Why did you do it?" He wasn't sure he wanted the truth, but he had to know.

"Somehow… those bastards took out Matthias," Ed growled, though it sounded pathetic given his current state. "I thought we got all the guns, Al…."

"They had one under a tent getting repaired," Al sighed. "Someone else transmuted it as soon as they saw it, but it got off a couple of shots." Shit, one of those had hit Matthias Wood? Al hadn't seen the full casualty reports yet. He felt bad that he hadn't noticed that the other alchemist was missing from the crowd. "But you aren't usually into revenge," he pointed out. Surely, as awful as that was, it wasn't Ed's only motivator?

"I… I don't know." Ed sounded like there was something caught in his throat. Was he crying? Al wished he could see, but Ed kept himself firmly turned away. "I gave him orders, and he was leaving and then suddenly… he was just _in pieces_, in the air, then on the ground and I…. I _lost_ it, Al."

In pieces; Al cringed at the very thought. For all their time fighting in their lives, he had never been very good at dealing with the more visceral realities of some of the things they had dealt with. "I've seen you lose you temper, Ed," he said finally to break the awkward silence if nothing else. "This was different."

"Not my temper, Al," Ed corrected. "Not just that. It was … inhuman. I wasn't even thinking, just _feeling_ and I wanted it to end. I don't really remember much… except for being on the ground and the transmutation."

"You passed out again," Al frowned. Concern had replaced some of his anger, though not all. "You've got to stop, Ed. I don't care _who_ dies, we can't afford to have you pulling these kinds of stunts anymore than anyone else."

"You think I don't_ know _that, Alphonse?" Ed's head jerked around sharply, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger. There were tear streaks on his face. "You think I'm _proud_ of yesterday? I'll have you know I –" he cut off as he started coughing.

"That will be enough excitement or you'll both be separated," Knox scowled as he entered the walled-off tent 'room' that Al had come to think of as Ed's. Ed hadn't slept in their tent once since they had been shot. Knox's ire turned almost immediately on Edward. "You're very possibly the biggest idiot I've ever had to try and hold together. Your abdominal muscles will never heal properly like this; nor will the rest of you. You're thoughtless, reckless, and you pay _absolutely no heed_ to your own limits! I'm frankly astounded that you've somehow managed to live this long at all."

Al watched Ed as he knew his brother's temper was rising – his face turned red, then purple – and then ebbed as Ed sat rigidly still and said absolutely nothing through the doctor's entire tirade. Al wasn't sure if Ed's silent display of control was an improvement or something else to be worried about.

"If you set one foot outside this tent again without my express permission," Knox finally wound down, "Then you'll be living off of broth and bread for the rest of this campaign!"

Now there was a threat. Ed cringed, though all he did was shake his head and sigh. "Whatever you say, Doc. It's not like I could move right now if I wanted to."

"And we all know whose fault that is," Knox sighed heavily. "I'd wash my hands of you if it didn't go against my duties and oaths as a physician. It's men like you who give less experienced soldiers dumb ideas. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other patients to tend to. If you need anything, just shout. Someone will be by eventually."

"Very funny," Ed grumbled sourly.

"Have I missed any of the fun?" Hal Brewster asked as he poked his head in before the flap had even settled shut from Knox's exit.

"You're back," Al was glad to have a momentary distraction. "What's the situation?"

"The Aerugeans are _still _running with their battered tails between their legs," Brewster replied with a satisfied grin. "I've still got scouts on them, following at a safe distance and with hand radios for use in case of dire emergencies."

"Like further reinforcements?" Al asked dryly.

"Exactly," Brewster replied. "Though I do have some good news. We've appropriated a few more trucks. We don't have to haul the wounded and supplies by llama cart anymore."

"Well I'm sure Ed will miss Cash," Al smirked, referring to the llama, "But if it's for the best."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Bite me, Al."

"That's the llama's job isn't it?" Brewster chimed in.

Ed turned away again, grimacing even as he rolled over on his left side and pulled the blanket over his head. "You heard the doc, leave me alone. I'm supposed to be resting."

Even annoyed, Al felt a twinge of guilt. "Ed, please don't be like this. I just don't want to ever have to tell Winry you're not coming back." He didn't want to think about either of them dying, but it was a possibility he had accepted a long time ago. Lately, it had been hard not to consider it. He had a letter to Elicia written that he kept in his pack and hoped that Ed would never have to deliver it. Ed had never mentioned if he had done the same, and when Al had tried asking once his question had been met with silence.

"Don't worry about it," the flippant reply was muffled. "I'm sure I can find a way to come back and do it myself."

Al felt a flash of irritation. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Ed said without reemerging. "Can we have this conversation when I'm coherent? I'd like to go back to sleep."

"All right; sleep well, Ed." Al stood up and left the room. Ed was technically right, but he still felt like his brother was using Knox's orders as a way to dodge discussion. They would need to talk at some point about what had happened yesterday, if only because Al knew that Ed would bottle up his feelings given the chance, and obviously watching Matthias' rather gruesome end had cut him deeply. Al couldn't blame his brother for that. It was a horrible way to go, and watching it must have been painful. But Ed wasn't the kind to share that pain with others.

"Are_ you_ okay?" Brewster asked Al when they stepped outside of the tent.

"Yeah." Al paused and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He wasn't sure he remembered the last time he honestly felt at peace, but at least he could be calm. "I'm just worried about him, but then what else is new? We should see about getting everything ready to move. Chasing the Aerugeans all the way back to Bueáire isn't going to work very well if we let them think we aren't right on their tail."

"I don't know why Mustang didn't offer _you_ full four-star General," Brewster shook his head and chuckled, following as Al headed off to check in with the quartermasters first. "I mean no offense to Edward of course, but why him?"

Al smirked. "Better hair."

"Ah," Brewster nodded sagely, though there was a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "That makes_ perfect_ sense."


	19. Chapter 19

**August 8****th****, 1952**

"Damn it, Alphonse," Edward glared at his brother the morning before they set out on their last half-a-day march before they hit Bueáire, "I am not going to be carried in like some half-drowned kitten! I want to walk into that city on my own power in front the men we led here." He wasn't going to give those Aerugean bastards who had sent their military the satisfaction of seeing him beat down!

"It's barely been a week," Al shook his head. "You're still exhausted, Ed. I don't think it's a good idea."

"I'm not talking about marching the whole way there, dumb-ass," Ed sighed in exasperation. "Just from within sight of the walls into the city. I'm not sitting out on meeting these guys either. Look, I'll lie down and rest as soon as we're done, I promise." _Anything _but the humiliation of appearing beaten in front of the enemy.

His unspoken plea must have fallen on Al's ears anyway, because his brother sighed heavily and shrugged. "All right, but only if you can get Knox to agree to it. And I will be checking with him," he added.

_Damn. _Not that Ed would have _really_ lied to Al about that. "I'll talk him into it all right," he said.

Al smirked. "Good luck."

* * *

For all his grouchy demeanor, sarcasm, and stubbornness, Ed was shocked when Knox agreed to his request. Maybe it was the _please_ that did it. "You have….what, what do you mean _yes_?" he stared at the physician in disbelief.

"Don't faint from the shock," Knox replied. "Even I know that there are some things in war that must be done for the sake of appearance and morale. As long as all you do is walk and run your mouth I doubt you will suffer too much for it."

"Gee, thanks." That wasn't exactly the endorsement Ed had been hoping for, but he certainly wasn't going to argue the matter further after getting an affirmative answer. The plan was – assuming it worked – to march into the city, surround the primary government building, and simply declare the existing and previous governments null and void, and temporarily take over for the purpose of allowing a re-organization of government.

That was why Ed wanted to be on his feet. It was really hard to dramatically storm someplace lying on a stretcher or from the back of a truck. With permission though, he behaved for the rest of the morning as they moved toward Aerugo's capitol city. He rode in a truck, lounging across one of the bench seats and cat-napping. It was embarrassing how easily he still got tired, but Ed didn't need Knox to tell him that was because he kept over-extending himself. Still, it hadn't been in vain or for a worthless cause any one of those times.

The entrance to the city itself was surprisingly anti-climactic. Ed climbed into the front of the truck next to the driver as they pulled up to the city. Like most cities in Aerugo, this one also had walls, though they were further into the city now. Generations of expansion had brought housing and commerce beyond the walls of the original city. No one stopped them as they rolled and marched their way up to the inner walls. The gates were wide open at mid-day too. While a lot of people came out to watch them go by – and some cheered, while others booed loudly and tossed things until the local police were smart enough to shush them – no one openly attacked. They knew what it was – an occupation – and no one wanted to obviously get on the bad side of the people taking over.

Ed felt pressure in his chest from the guilt as he watched children stare at the vehicles and marching Amestrians. A lot of them, and the women and men who protected them, looked fearful. They were not the heroes here. Ed knew that the world wasn't perfect; often the right thing to do still didn't make someone the hero, but he had decided long ago that he really preferred that role over that of military dog. Now, he definitely liked the idea of being the hero more than the villain. To a lot of those people, that was what they were – and that was how they would see him, because he – and Alphonse and Hal – were the most visible. They would stand up and tell the Aerugean people that they only had their best interests at heart and, while Ed believed that, he also knew that no matter what happened the situation might not actually improve for the people who honestly wanted their help or for anyone else.

It was a long trip and unimpeded until they reached the center of the city and the government district of Aerugo. The old buildings were beautiful. Ed admired the architecture, though he knew Alphonse could tell him much more about it than he knew personally. The aesthetics were ruined by a best-but-horribly-inadequate effort police blockade.

_Show time. _Ed had dressed in full uniform, he _wanted _them to know who he was. He unbuckled, stepped out of the truck, and faced the police, hands away from his sides and open though he refused to look intimidated and put them up in the air. There were a lot of guns trained on him. _So a day of work as usual._ ::Good afternoon gentlemen, ladies,:: Ed nodded politely as he spotted a female officer. ::We'd like to have a word with the men running things around here if you please.:: He thought, with a twist of irony, that his mother would have been proud of him for remembering to use good manners, though she would have hated the idea of her boys leading an invasion anywhere. He didn't turn around but he heard other doors close and knew that Al and Brewster were joining him. Ed was fairly certain he and Al could block even an entire barrage of bullets before they hit, but he had three other alchemists standing by just in case. They were more subtle than men pointing rifles back at the police.

::We would really rather do this without any further violence,:: Brewster spoke up calmly. ::But you can't take us out, as you've probably figured out by now if your intelligence is worth anything. Let us pass and do not attack us and there will be no further violence against your people, civilian or otherwise.::

::Let's work the rest of this out peaceably,:: Al added.

Ed stood calmly, waiting for the police to make a decision. Obviously it didn't take long to decide that the men upstairs were going to lose and really weren't worth protecting.

::You will be held to your word,:: the officer in charge said as a small break opened in their line.

"Come on, gentlemen," Ed grinned as he moved forward confidently. "Let's claim a country for its people."

The three Generals, accompanied by a dozen unarmed soldiers – in other words, all alchemists – entered the building and easily negotiated their way to the room where they were assured the Cabinet was currently _in session. _

Ed didn't need to kick the door open. He slapped his palms together than shoved the door with an alchemical boost that sent them flying open and apart, leaving them in splinters on the floor without hitting anyone on the other side. "Hi guys," he smirked as a dozen faces looked up sharply in indignant anger, then some in horror, others fear, and several outright hatred. "Don't tell me we weren't expected."

::Seize them!:: One of the men shouted and gestured at the guards along the walls.

The guards had no chance to act as a dozen trained alchemists – Ed and Al didn't have to lift a finger – transmuted the very paper off the walls, the wood of the floors, anything they wanted to grab as materials, to bind the guards and render their weapons useless. The weapons simply became puddles of molten metal and wood ash.

Ed recognized the man. It was a face he had not seen in years, but if he was here, that meant Joachim Arnan was surely backing him in this. Paolo Tyron was Arnan's business partner in the illegal alchemical substances part of the man's business. "Is this your racket Tyron?" he asked with a smirk as he crossed the room amidst the chaos. "Pretty poor bet on Arnan's part, backing you here."

"Who are you?" Tyron gave him a disgusted and confused look. Clearly, he did not recognize Edward.

Ed chuckled. "I'd be hurt that you don't recognize me, but I'll take it as a compliment to my acting skills. I _appropriated_ a ring from your partner once several years ago – a stone of some alchemical value."

Tyron shook his head. "You said you got out of the military."

"No, _Larred Allen_ said _he_ did." This had to be one of the best _got you_ scenarios ever! Ed was enjoying it far too much. "I find it amusing that none of you realized you had the Fullmetal Alchemist in your den. Surely you realized the government of Amestris would want that stone destroyed like the others."

"Arnan was over confident," Tyron shrugged, glowering.

"Can we just get on with business," Alphonse cut in then, sounding annoyed though from the corner of his eye, Ed could see that Al was rather startled by this revelation. Well it _had_ been a classified mission though Ed _had _told his brother he had come down on a mission.

"Oh right," Ed looked at the rest of the room. "You're all under arrest for immoral and seditious acts against the Aerugean people."

"Our predecessors do not have the authority to give you that ability," another man – small and kind of mousy – shouted, quivering slightly.

"Who said we were acting on their orders?" Ed shrugged. "You trapped innocent people inside your borders who were _not_ your citizens to detain. You closed the border and violated over_ two dozen_ trade agreements. This is an occupation, gentlemen. It's a war you personally just lost. So you can submit to our authority right now, or you can face execution at the hands of an angry mob of your own _loyal_ subjects." As if that wouldn't be like tossing them to piranhas. Ed knew exactly which people these men feared and there were a_ lot _of common men. "We're not going anywhere until there's a government here that works for the people and represents their interests adequately. You've broken any oaths of office you could possibly have made with your actions and worst yet, you've caused me to have to drag myself away from home and come down here and teach you all a lesson. Now how nice was that?" The sarcasm was just to rub their faces in it.

"If we surrender, what guarantee do we have you won't execute us anyway?" One of the other men asked, still sitting at the table.

"Only the word of three Generals and a large number of State Alchemists," Ed shrugged. "You want more proof? Give me the phone and I'll put you on the line with President Breda. Amestris won't execute you, just imprison you. However, cooperation is more likely to save you from an Aerugean court than anything else. I can't make more promises than that without a few words with the boss."

"Very well then," Tyron said after looking around the room at the faces of his colleagues. "You have our surrender." He smirked then. "Good luck trying to turn this viper's den into anything resembling a peaceful state."

"Thanks," Ed smiled, knowing full well that Tyron was being sarcastic. "You will now be escorted to prison and we'll set a nice guard to make sure you're not molested by the crowds outside who hate your guts. I'm told you guys used to actually have some kind of Senate. Whatever happened to those guys?"

One of the older men looked uncomfortable. "They would be in the prison."

"Excellent." This was just getting better. "Then I'm sure they will be very interested in working with us, given the alternative will be live in prison for their own old crimes."

"Let's cut the chatter," Brewster grinned. "Gentlemen," he motioned to the other State Alchemists, "If you'd like to escort our guests to their new living accommodations?"

**August 12****th****, 1952**

It seemed like from day one she had been running. Three days after arriving in Aerugo and meeting up with Alec's unit, Winry had found herself being moved south to help deal with the injured from a skirmish that had occurred just a few hours north of Havah by train. While the primary bulk of the Aerugean army that had been sent north was scattered or defeated, there were units that continued to fight back all along the railways, and local guerrilla groups that were as likely to attack the Aerugean military as the Amestrians. It was chaos that reminded Winry at moments of the conflicts in Amestris that most of the citizens had never even been aware of. Politics was never clean and simple.

Winry wasn't here for politics. She was here to help the wounded, the sick, and those who needed auto-mail replaced or repaired. Eventually, she hoped to find Edward and Alphonse, but she knew that might not be possible. At least now she was doing something that actively helped instead of sitting around like she was somehow helpless.

It hadn't taken long to prove herself worth well _past_ her weight in auto-mail parts. As Alec had pointed out the first day, Winry had designed – in many cases personally – the majority of the auto-mail she was now repairing. She knew the designs intimately and could even make minor improvements and fairly large adjustments on the fly. In a couple of cases she had already been required to perform surgery to help re-attach partially damaged ports. Those had been a challenge, but more for the pain of her patients – as it always was – than the difficulty of procedures she had done for decades now.

"There you are," Winry smiled as she put the cover back on one Lieutenant's leg. "Good as new."

"Wow, that was fast," the man grinned at her. "The last time I was in here it took them four hours to do pretty much the same job."

"I've had practice," Winry replied with a simple shrug. Not everyone who came in knew who she was and she didn't advertise. This wasn't about her after all.

The young Lieutenant stood up and tested the leg. "I'll say!" he chuckled as he walked around a few times. "That's the smoothest movement I've had all year."

"It had better be, or I'm not doing my job," Winry smiled as she removed her oil-stained gloves. "If you'll excuse me, I've got some other work to attend to. If that needs any adjustments just let me know, but try not to get it so badly dinged up this time okay?"

"Yes ma'am," the soldier saluted her, though it seemed meant playfully, and winked. "I always listen to the_ pretty_ mechanics." Then he headed out.

Winry felt her face warm. Okay, so the boy was at least twenty years her junior. It was nice to hear a compliment once in a while. She quickly removed her apron, washed up, and headed out into the general area of the field hospital tent and reported to work. Her first assignment was checking vitals, then changing bed sheets, and then assisting one of the doctor's with several different patients that needed to be shifted or moved in order for their wounds to be tended. She had just finished helping re-sanitize and bandage a graze-wound on one woman's thigh when she heard commotion outside and several soldiers came in carrying wounded.

Immediately Winry and a couple of the doctors dropped what they were doing and rushed over. She counted three wounded soldiers and, behind them to her surprise, a matronly looking woman carrying a boy who was bleeding profusely from his left leg. Winry approached the woman but was brought up abruptly when a soldier stuck the butt of his rifle in front of her. "I wouldn't do that, ma'am," he said with a sharp glare. "That boy's the one who shot these men."

Winry stared up at the young man – a Private Second Class according to the rank on his uniform – with a firm glare. "And just why did he feel the need to do that, Private?"

"We were investigating reports of insurgents hiding in the house," the other Private beside him replied defensively.

Winry reached out one hand and calmly shoved the rifle out of her way. "And you expect a child to not defend his home?" She walked over to the woman with a steady, measured stride. She would not be intimidated by anyone, let alone young soldiers. ::May I see him?:: she asked the woman, whom she took to be the boy's mother, or possibly grandmother. Her Aerugean wasn't great, but it had improved quickly in dealing with locals. ::I promise I won't hurt him.::

The woman very gingerly deposited the boy in Winry's arms. He was light, and younger than Winry had first guessed – probably no more than twelve. A brave child to defend his home. Her heart ached. She'd known a lot of boys like that at this age. She carried him over to one of the tables and gently laid him down. Then she began to cut off his blood-soaked pant leg.

"What are you doing?" A stern voice asked; this one more familiar.

Winry looked up at Doctor Gunnarson and scowled. "What does it look like I'm doing?" she asked. "I'm taking care of a patient."

"He's the enemy," the older gentleman shook his head. "If you treat them, they just come back to fight you again later."

Fury filled Winry as she listened to him. That was what they had said in Ishbal. That was why her parents had been executed. "He's a child!" She exclaimed angrily. "All he did was protect his home and his family the same as anybody else. All that out-of-date attitude ever did was get innocent people murdered for doing what they ought to. Get out of my way doctor! I'm not about to let this boy die."

Gunnarson had not been expecting the tirade. His expression darkened but he backed up. "Let it be on your head then. Be aware that it will be reported."

"Good," Winry replied as she finished removing the pant leg and began to clean the wound. Fortunately it had already clotted for the most part and it appeared that the bullet hadn't penetrated very deeply. "Tell anyone you like. No one from the Rockbell family lets any patient go without treatment." She was taking a guess, but the man was old enough he had almost certainly been a medic in the Ishbal campaign. "Do you have children, Doctor Gunnarson? If so just think about how you would want them treated if the same situation ever occurred back home."

She was right; his face blanched momentarily as he put Rockbell together with Winry – and likely inference over to Elric – and listened to what she said. He seemed to give up. "Do what you like." He snorted and turned, stalking off.

Winry turned back to the boy and very carefully began removing the bullet from his leg. It was messy business compared to her usual work, but not complicated. She spoke in soothing, hushed tones as she worked, humming songs she had sung to the kids when they were small, especially when they were frightened. The boy's eyes were open wide in fear as he watched her, but he didn't move except to cry out occasionally as Winry worked the bullet out, then disinfected and bandaged the wound. ::There now,:: she smiled when she finished. ::It will heal.::

::Thank you,:: the woman had tears in her eyes. On closer inspection, Winry found that the woman _looked_ old enough to be the boy's grandmother, but almost certainly wasn't. Time and life had aged her, but the woman probably was several years younger than Winry. ::Miguel was protecting his sisters. I told him to stay out of the way but.... my husband was killed months ago and he feels he must take his place.::

Winry nodded. ::He's very brave. The wound is not bad. He needs to stay off his leg for a few days.:: She would have preferred the boy stay here, but she suspected that the hostility some of the soldiers seemed to have would not make it an environment conducive to restful recovery.

::I will take care of him,:: his mother nodded. ::And he has hopefully learned a lesson he will not soon forget.::

Miguel looked abashed, blushing even under his tanned skin. ::Yes, mama. Thank you, ma'am,:: he said then to Winry.

::You're welcome,:: Winry smiled and ruffled his hair. ::I have a son about your age. He's a lot like you.::

It was a little while before the woman took her son home. Winry insisted that he rest and that he be given an antibiotic to stave off any infection. When he was gone, she headed back to the auto-mail workshop, where Alec greeted her with a bemused grin. "I hear you told off old man Gunnarson earlier."

"I'm sure everyone will have heard about it soon enough," Winry shrugged as she poured herself a glass of water and sat down. She was tired and hot. The warmth of the climate down here was, for some reason, uncomfortable even though she didn't usually mind the heat. "Imagine trying to deny treatment to a boy who shot someone because they came into his home uninvited with weapons." She couldn't hide the disgust in her voice and she didn't try. She was too ticked off at the Doctor and the two soldiers for their reactions.

"You've got guts," Alec chuckled as he sat down across from her and poured himself a glass. "But then I guess that's not really news. A patient's a patient, no matter which side they're on. Frankly, most folks here feel the same way but Gunnarson's a hard-nose and he intimidates most of them."

"Them. Not you?" Winry smiled, noting the phrasing.

Alec shrugged. "Almost no one intimidates me. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I did would I? You know as well as I do what uncooperative auto-mail patients are like."

Winry nodded. "I have to admit, I know I would have treated anyone that came in, but I don't think I would have gotten so hot about it if he wasn't a child." That was what really had her angry. He wasn't even a soldier! "My son Ethan would have done something like that if he had to, gentle as he is. Edward and Alphonse were on their own at that age. I've met so many young boys who would do anything to protect their families...."

"And you'd do just about anything to protect them." Alec gave her a knowing nod. "I think that's why most of the men prefer you over most of my other mechanics, other than the skills of course," he smiled. "They find you comforting. Forgive me for saying it, but I think you remind most of the younger guys of their mothers."

Winry wasn't offended. She was certainly old enough to be mother to a lot of them. "Everyone deserves a little respect and care," she replied. "Auto-mail, like medicine or anything else, is a science; it needs to be precise and done well; not rushed, but you can't forget that the patient is human too, not just the metal parts we design and install and maintain." She chuckled softly. "And here I am, talking like you don't already know that."

"It's always good to be reminded." Fortunately Alec seemed no more offended than Winry had by his earlier comment. The two of them actually got along quite well. "Watching you, it really does seem more like you're treating someone's injuries than just tinkering with machinery."

"Well I enjoy tinkering too," Winry chuckled. "But it's an extension of who they are and that's what's important. A person should feel as comfortable with their auto-mail as they do with their own flesh and blood." Her expression softened as she thought about her two most_ special _patients. Ethan hardly noticed his fingers except to keep them clean, especially now that he no longer had to deal with the port surgeries. As for Edward.... well as little regard as he had always appeared to show for her work, she had heard him say many times – even when he didn't know she was listening – that he had the best auto-mail possible, and the best mechanic. That always made her feel good, especially when maintaining the limbs she had designed for him had once been her only way of expressing how deeply she cared for him. She didn't know how long it was before Winry realized that Alec was watching her, once more looking amused. "I'm sorry," she felt her face flush. "I guess my mind was wandering." She hated being scatter-brained. It usually happened rarely but it annoyed her. Lately it happened more often than she liked.

"I can guess where," Alec replied. "Your face is very expressive. We got another report relayed from Central while you were out there wreaking havoc with our medical system," he chuckled. "Word is that the Eastern Division arrived in Bueáire a couple of days ago."

"They did?" He had Winry's full attention in an instant. "What else?"

"Not a whole lot," Alec admitted. "Though the Generals apparently made a rather _spectacular_ arrest of the new Cabinet. I expect some of what we're seeing right now is a reaction to that. Right now the only power in control of Aerugo at the top is the Amestrian military."

The Generals… "Edward and Alphonse?" Now there was a thought. Of course, they weren't really in charge, but they and Major General Brewster were the ranking military men _in_ Bueáire to hold the peace. "I think I pity Aerugo. No other news?"

Alec shook his head. "We have control of the country, that's something at least. Now it's a matter of fixing the mess so that we can get out of here again without it going back to what it was."

That would definitely be the trick, but if anyone could bully a government into working together for the good of the people – and Winry had no doubts that this would not involve pleasantries on Ed's end – it was Ed and Al. Still, it would have been nice to have gotten something more detailed now that the boys were apparently back in regular communication. Winry felt only mildly guilty for wishing that maybe Ed would have remembered – for once – to tell her that he was all right, even if it was a blatant lie. Even if it _were_ lying, Winry would have been happy to hear anything from him at all.

Nearly eleven months and nothing; it was worse than when he left Resembool. At least then there had been no expectation. Now Winry knew she still shouldn't have any. Ed was the worst correspondent ever, but still she waited, and still she felt disappointment. Was he still hurt? Had he been getting enough rest? Had he healed up properly?

Thousands of questions poured through Winry's head and the worst part was that even in the silence, she knew she could probably answer all of them without hearing a word from Ed; yes, no, and no.

**August 18****th****, 1952**

After the first ambush, the Northern forces had proceeded southward with more caution and better protection for their scouts. Kane had thought it wise, and Sara agreed, to send scouts in pairs, and one of each pair a trained alchemist. There were just times when it was faster and more feasible to pull off a transmutation than to pull a gun. There were no more unpleasant surprises other than the occasional skirmish.

News reached the Northern forces that the Eastern Division had arrived in Bueáire, arrested the existing corrupt Cabinet, and what remained of the former Senate had ordered a cease-fire against Amestrian troops. For the most part, it had worked; at least for the military members still loyal to the original government, or to the ideals that the Amestrians also ascribed to as ways of running a country. The problem was the members of the military who had recognized the authority of the new Cabinet and supported it often defected, and there were still individual units out there who were not military fighting against anyone who disagreed with them. It was chaos.

Peace at the top meant that little had changed for the soldiers down on the ground, except that now the Amestrians were dealing with lots of smaller forces instead of a couple of large ones.

After dealing with some rather ugly guerrillas who seemed more interested in looting and becoming bandits than actually improving the situation for anyone else, Kane called Sara into his tent late that evening. "I'd like to station your battalion here for a little while, until the situation gets more stable in the area." They were in a town only a couple of days from Bueáire by car or train.

Sara nodded. It made sense, as much as she would have liked to get down to Bueáire, where she knew her father and uncle were. There were much more important things that had to come first. "Yes, Sir," she agreed.

Raglian wasn't a bad little town to have to stay in for a while. Not that any of the towns they had been through were particularly bad. Sara would have liked to have visited Aerugo's more rustic and provincial locations as a tourist instead of as an invading soldier. She expected she would have enjoyed it. Perhaps someday when things settled down she and Franz could come down and see it together. Havah she had no interest in ever spending time in again.

"It's hard to believe it's been almost a year," Kane sighed then, leaning against the small table between them. "And yet somehow it feels like forever too."

Sara knew the feeling. "Have you gotten letters from home since the lines reopened?" she asked, resting her elbows against the table.

"A couple," Kane chuckled softly. "My son wants me to get home and teach him how to play baseball like I promised."

"You_ play _baseball?" Sara asked. It had never really occurred to her that Kane might have other hobbies. Most alchemists she knew were rather absorbed in their work and their craft.

"Terribly," Kane admitted then, laughing. "But I can catch and throw well enough to play a six-year …damn," he shook his head. "He's seven now. They grow up way too fast."

"I feel that way about my nephew," Sara chuckled, thinking of how much Coran had grown every time she saw him. "Hell I feel that way about Ethan and my cousins."

"Your own will always seem to grow faster, trust me," Kane smiled. "My wife won't let me forget it either. She wants me home too."

"Well I should hope so," Sara chuckled. She enjoyed these random informal chats with Kane. If he wasn't her superior, she knew they would be friends. "It's helpful to know someone is actually waiting at home isn't it?"

"It is," Kane agreed. "But you should know that by now," he teased just a little. "While I don't know what's in them, I've seen the number of letters Heimler sends you."

Sara knew she was getting used to either Kane's teasing, the idea that Franz really was _hers_, or both; probably both. "The usual things you'd expect I guess," she admitted generally. "How much he misses me, and can't wait till I get home so we don't have to be apart anymore."

"Sounds serious," Kane commented knowingly.

This time, Sara blushed. "We'd only been together for a few months when I left," she pointed out.

Kane shook his head. "Don't pull that with me. I have eyes, ears, and I talk with the same people you do most of the time."

"Small world," Sara sighed.

"Small office," Kane corrected. "You two were all-but-dating for years before that. It's not like this is a new relationship; just a new step. Besides, don't tell me serious isn't what you wanted out of this."

"Did I say otherwise?" Sara said, feeling mildly defensive. Since when was her personal life the primary topic of discussion? All right, so it was a fair trade. "I have to admit, if I'm reading between the lines, or not so much so… I have wondered if he's thinking more long term."

"And you're not?" Kane asked, a little more gently. Apparently he'd picked up on how prickly she was feeling.

"I have," Sara admitted. "But we both have our careers too. It's hard to maintain a long-term relationship in the military, especially for two officers. I love Franz, I really do, and if he asked tomorrow, I know I'd say yes… I'm just not ready to think about more than _that_ if that makes sense."

"Sure," Kane nodded. "Things get a lot more complicated with a family, wonderful as that relationship is and kids are when you have them. It's a lot to balance, but somehow I think you're more than capable of handling all of it."

"Thanks," Sara couldn't help smiling. Then a question came to her mind that, she thought, it might be worth asking Kane. She wanted another opinion. "What about Maes; this whole thing with him and Elena Albaracan?"

"I think I've never seen the idiot so happy," Kane admitted then, surprising Sara as he chuckled, "Or so focused. His performance on duty has been commendable and noted in several reports that have crossed my desk lately, and Elena's a nice girl. Apparently she's good for him, and since I know you're going to ask, yes guys can fall that quickly and _yes_ I think they're as good a match as I've seen, unlikely as it might have been."

Sara was left with her mouth half-open for a moment. "Okay," she said finally. "Thanks." That was more answer than she had expected. "I'm kind of surprised you feel that way," she admitted once her mind caught up with the answer. "You seem to feel strongly about it to. Can I ask why?"

Kane shrugged. "Because I've seen too many young officers waste time and possibly what's left of their lives _over_-thinking things. I did the same thing when I was – I can't believe I'm saying this – but when I was younger," he winced as the words came out. "A lot of really good officers get married late or not at all, and by the time they're ready to have a family or find a relationship, it's a lot harder."

"Right." Sara knew a lot of people like that. Maes' parents had waited a long time to have kids, Colonel Havoc had gotten married only a few years before his death; Breda had gotten married in his early fifties and adopted kids. There were others who never married too.

"A really good partner for life is hard to find," Kane went on. "But when I see relationships that work, I just don't want people to miss them. Not everyone has that. Okay," he laughed then, relaxing. "Now I feel _way_ too old and responsible."

"That's okay, Sir," Sara chuckled, a little amused by how far a field their conversation had wandered. "When we get home, you can always have a wild time back in Central… with your wife."

Kane snorted. "And you know what, Twilight? I wouldn't have it any other way."

Sara thought about Franz and knew that, given the choice, she wouldn't either.


	20. Chapter 20

**August 22****nd****, 1952**

Taking control of a country was one thing while organizing it turned out to be quite another. Edward had discovered that he much preferred taking it over to trying to make bureaucrats see sense. Of course, he had always felt that way about the Amestrian government too, so maybe the two countries had a lot more in common than they realized. Ed just hoped that meant there _was_ hope for this mess.

The surviving Senate members – those not executed or run off into hiding – were more than happy to sell out the secrets of the men who overthrew them in the hopes of getting out of what was sure to be a gruesome death or loathsome life sentence otherwise. They were all scum, and it made Ed want to turn them all into gerbils and toss them in the Ama for the fish. Oh if only such things were possible. These were his daydreams as they gathered information, hunted men down, made arrests, and tried to create a new government system. Or at least, get the basics started. Very little would really be done – or so Breda's orders said – until the Northern force arrived in Bueáire. Central was sending down the Aerugean government-in-exile to assist, though the men had been well assured that there was no guarantee that they would even be part of that new government. For them though, living seemed to be enough for now.

Breda was also sending the real ambassador corps, political experts, and a couple of the Assemblymen to assist in forming a functional new government. Ed hoped they arrived quickly, because he was already running out of patience.

He still wasn't up to full strength either. Even the little he had done in entering the city had tired him, if not nearly as badly as anything else. The Amestrians were now camped on the grounds and in the buildings of the Amestrian Embassy compound within the city itself. As soon as that had been established, Ed had tucked up in one of the _good_ bedrooms in the Embassy – rank had to count for _something_ – and slept for a couple of hours while Brewster and Alphonse handled a lot of the run-around.

One of the other things they had done was release the imprisoned Amestrians who had worked and lived at the embassy itself, which amounted to nearly a hundred people, including Turin Valasky, the Ambassador, who Ed remembered meeting a few times in Central.

"Do you think we have any chance of succeeding at this?" Ed asked Valasky one evening as they sat on one of the verandas overlooking the embassy gardens sipping cold mint tea after dinner. As world savvy as Ed, Al, and Brewster were, they weren't politicians. Alphonse was the only one with negotiation experience, and while he was doing his best, it was much more difficult when the people being dealt with were clearly divided into multiple factions and not inclined to listen to outsiders except under protest.

Valasky sighed and stirred sugar into his cup. "I don't think we'll know until the diplomatic corps actually arrives," he replied. "The Aerugeans, as you've probably noticed, are as prideful, stubborn, and varied as Amestris. The problem is the cultural differences. How they have done things for centuries is different from how we have, despite the similarities in government structure, and their priorities are, in a lot of ways, more heavily differentiated than ours. Part of that is, of course, the drastic difference in economic levels within the country."

Ed nodded. "So getting a government made up of people who can work together and respect each other is harder than finding people who are capable of governing without corrupting the system." Honest people weren't hard to come by, neither were qualified really, but people with the willingness to put the past behind them for the good of _all_ the people was a different story.

"That's part of it," Valasky sipped his tea. "If only government were that simple. There's the problem of replacing every corrupt official from the bottom up, and in this country that's quite a stretch. Often it really is a matter of picking lesser corruption over greater. Then there's the argument of how the people should be represented and how many people from each geographic area are appropriate. In some ways we're trying to recreate their government from the ground up even though the structure will look outwardly the same."

The whole thing gave Ed a headache. The more he understood, the more he realized how _much_ more he didn't yet fully grasp. "This," he sighed as he finished his tea, "Is why I hate politics."

**September 10****th****, 1952**

The day the Northern force arrived in Bueáire was a major relief for Edward. It meant he could stop splitting his attentions between multiple _fronts_ as he considered them. With politicians in place to handle the government mess, he and Al and Brewster were free to focus entirely on their army which, despite the cessation of open hostility between the armies, did not mean they were just sitting around doing nothing. Bueáire was in an uproar, and it was an odd day that didn't have at least one riot somewhere in the city. The soldiers rotated peace-keeping duty, with strict orders not to shoot. The alchemists came in very handy in violent situations, able to diffuse them or at least stop anyone from being hurt with a little creative alchemy.

Finally Ed understood the full complexity of the situation Amestris had gotten mired in by coming to Aerugo. The way things stood, he became aware of how long it would take them to come up with a workable solution that would actually hold up when they finally withdrew from the country. Without Amestris looming over their shoulders, the Aerugeans needed a government that could be trusted to do what it was supposed to.

The problem was, even the people didn't agree. It wasn't even a matter of two factions anymore – those with money and those without. There were regional disagreements, and even cultural ones based on the different ancient cultures out of which the Aerugean people had come. There were disagreements on the use of land resources, mercantile complications, and all sorts of other issues that people insisted needed to be represented and discussed as if they were _all_ of the utmost importance.

Given the opportunity, Ed slipped out into the city once or twice to get a better feel for the people, because all of this posed a moral dilemma he – and Al too he knew – had been dealing with for some time. As military officers all they had to do was follow orders, but they were – above even that – alchemists, and always would be. Ed had wrestled with the complications of what _be thou for the people _meant for most of his life, and he understood the principle well enough. What complicated matters was what was the right thing to do when the _people_ all had different viewpoints on what they thought was best for them, and when did that choice mean picking a side that Ed thought personally was best, or picking a choice that the people didn't like but _he_ thought would better help them out?

Ed was even happier that he had never gone into politics. Representing the people would be even more of a pain. All of this politics gave him headaches on top of the fact that he was still tired and weaker than he wanted to be. He was sleeping more, and they were finally in a place where they weren't tight on rations, so he was finally able to eat as much as he wanted without worrying about shorting someone else. At this point, Knox just shrugged and told him it would take time even if he did exactly as he was told. Of course, Ed couldn't afford that. He was taking it easier, but that didn't mean he could avoid his responsibilities.

The best distraction from his thoughts was the arrival not the politicians and ambassadors, but the military itself. As soon as the Northern soldiers marched onto the embassy grounds Ed was outside – followed quickly by Alphonse and anyone else who wasn't already camped outside – to greet old friends.

"Took you long enough to get here," Ed laughed as he clasped hands with Marcus Kane for the first time in what seemed like forever. He shook Armstrong's hand too –specifically to avoid a rib-crunching hug that would almost certainly set him back at least a week in recovery!

"Well we thought we'd do a little sight seeing along the way," Kane smirked, "Some shopping. Havah's quite the hot spot."

"From the updates we've been getting from Central, it sounds like it was that for a lot more than the local entertainment," Ed replied.

"The boys got tired of that in a hurry," Kane laughed then his expression sobered. "I'm glad you're alive, Fullmetal. What little information we got was pretty worrisome."

"It was supposed to be," Ed shrugged. "I'm alive though obviously. It's good to see you, Sky Fire."

"We should all go sit down someplace comfortable instead of standing out here to gab," Al suggested with a grin. "After the men are settled in of course."

"That is being taken care of as we speak," Armstrong chuckled heartily. Behind them, in the grassy areas not yet covered by Ed's troops, the Northern troops were already well on their way to having their own camps set up.

"Then by all means," Kane laughed. "I could use a good cold drink and a place to put my feet up that doesn't smell like sweat and dust."

It actually took about an hour before the alchemists reconvened in one of the spacious sitting rooms, with the windows thrown open to let in a breeze and the late-afternoon sun. There was cool mint tea, fresh fruit juice, someone had fetched a bottle of good rum from the kitchen's liquor supply, and snacks were brought up.

It gave Kane and Armstrong time to shower and get into clean clothes. Not that any of them had anything to wear that _wasn't_ military issue at this point. "Now this is much better," Kane sighed as he leaned back in one of the over-stuffed chairs, put his feet up on a foot stool and sipped an iced glass of rum. "Nice barracks you found for us, Ed."

"Thanks," Ed chuckled. He hadn't wasted time with a chair, but gone straight for the couch where he could stretch out. "It_ is _rather nice isn't it?"

"So what have we missed?" Al asked, clearly eager for news. "It sounds like you ran into as much trouble as we did, if not more."

"Well you've heard the reports," Armstrong replied. "At this point it's down to skirmishes mostly, but they are still all up and down the route from here to Amestris. We have suffered more losses than I would have liked."

"Isn't that always the case," Al sighed. "Anyone we know?"

"Not many," Kane shook his head. "The only alchemist we lost wasn't a fatality. Whitewater got a good part of his right leg blown off by a landmine not too long back. We've already shipped him back to Central."

Ed winced. He wasn't particular close to Calvin Fisher – no more than a lot of the alchemists – but no one deserved that kind of pain. "That had to hurt."

"At least he'll be able to get top quality auto-mail when he's healed up some," Al pointed out with a chuckle. "Winry hasn't disappointed a customer yet."

"What about on your end?" Kane reciprocated. "Who've we lost?"

This was a moment Ed had not been looking forward to. Marcus and Matthias had been as close as brothers almost ever since they were in class together. "I'm sorry, Kane. We lost Matthias."

Kane's face turned ashen white a moment, then grief set in, he shook his head and blinked away tears. "Damn it. Tell me you got the bastards that did it, Ed."

_And how_. Ed just nodded silently. He didn't really want to talk about the how of it. He wasn't proud of that moment. It still haunted him that he had been capable of that response at all.

"A terrible loss," Armstrong agreed somberly.

"How's Sara?" Ed asked to change the subject. "Is she here? I thought she'd have come with you." He had been a little disappointed not to see her come to meet him at the embassy, but then she _was_ busy with her own duties.

Kane looked apologetic, but glad for the shift. "She's just fine, but I left her Battalion in control of Raglian for the time being so they won't be joining us until things quiet down a little more."

Ed was immediately disappointed, but he nodded in understanding. "I'm sure she's got everything under control," he smiled and sipped his juice.

Kane flashed Ed a smug grin. "She takes to being an officer better than you do."

Ed chuckled. "No doubt." Pride filled him anytime he heard compliments about his daughter, even at his own expense. He wasn't going to argue when he agreed.

"Was that Ambassador Albaracan's daughter I saw out there?" Al asked curiously. "I was outside and I thought I recognized her."

"Who?" Ed looked over at Al.

"Elena," Kane answered Al's question and Ed's in one word. "Yes, she lived in Central with her father a few years back. She showed up in Havah trying to flee the country after the gentlemen you so nicely deposed recently slaughtered her family for defying them."

"I thought we weren't expatriating locals," Ed scowled. "Or is she just tagging along for protection? Not that it makes sense to come back _here_ if she fled Bueáire in the first place."

"Take it up with the Firebrand Alchemist," Kane's chuckle was almost as wicked as it was amused.

"Maes?" Al sounded as confused as Ed felt.

Armstrong cleared his throat. "It seems that our young compatriot's affections are set on the Ambassador's daughter."

It took Ed a moment to cipher the true meaning from Armstrong's usual over-flowery language. When he did he let out a long, low whistle. "As if things weren't complicated enough; I take it she feels the same?"

"You can't get them apart except by orders," Kane chuckled, sipping his drink. "And _propriety_ of all things. The boy's been a model officer and a _saint_ since the girl showed up."

"Well good for him," Al chuckled.

"I hope they're ready for a tough time of it," Ed sighed. He was happy for Maes too, but if Elena couldn't leave the country, that was going to present some major problems in the long term. Who knew how long the rules against expatriation would remain in effect?

"Maes is as stubborn as his father," Kane shrugged. "And as creative; I'm sure he'll come up with something if he has to."

"That's what I'm worried about." Ed shook his head. He could just _imagine. _

They talked for quite a while, until duties finally required them to get back to work. When Ed finally retired for the night, his mind was full of new information on top of the same thoughts he had been mulling over for the past several months; Maes and Elena, Sara's likely promotion to Colonel by the time this was over – or so Armstrong and Kane both expected – and some details of her actions over the past months. There was not a whole lot of news from home of interest to Ed and Al other than they would probably start getting letters from home anytime now that it was publicly known that Amestris' military had taken the Capitol.  
There was something Ed hadn't done yet; something he had been putting off for far too long, especially now that he had no excuse not to. Guilt poked at him, and all the thoughts he had tried to avoid on the subject refused to be quiet. Before he went to bed, Ed pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen.

_Dear Winry… _


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: Since the previous chapter was very short, and in honor of the holiday weekend, another chapter. ;) Enjoy!

* * *

**September 12****th****, 1952**

When the unit Winry was assigned to finally arrived in Bueáire in the late afternoon, troops had been trickling into the Capitol for quite some time. She looked around with curiosity as they were directed to the Amestrian Embassy. She was sure that the grounds were ostentatiously spacious when they _weren't_ crammed full of nearly two Divisions worth of men, munitions, and other supplies. There were hints of beautiful landscaping here and there, but a lot of it had apparently been fairly open lawn. That was good because there wasn't a spare inch of it not in use now.

As soon as they were setting up camp and Winry had nothing she was supposed to be doing she inquired as to where she might find the Generals Elric. She really wanted to speak to Edward, but she wouldn't object to finding Alphonse first if he was the only one available.

"They are in a meeting at the moment, ma'am," the Colonel standing in the doorway of the main entrance to the embassy talking with a couple of other lower officers replied. "Is it critical?"

Obviously they didn't recognize her from anyone else. Winry tapped the tool kit she never took off her belt. "I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist's primary mechanic."

They still didn't get it. The Colonel's expression brightened and he nodded. "Oh. All right then, ma'am. Go on in. I believe they're in the conference room on the second floor."

"Thank you, Colonel. Gentlemen," she nodded politely at the other two officers and walked in. Finding the stairs was easy and one of the embassy staff told her how to find the conference room in question. It was good to find out that the only people currently in there were apparently Ed, Al, and Hal Brewster.

As she got closer Winry felt herself tensing. She had dreamed – and had nightmares about – this moment for months. She had practiced her apologies to Edward in her mind as often as she had chewed him out for abandoning her at home again. In her mind she had sobbed over his wounds, kissed him, kicked him, listened to him apologize profusely for making her worry. In the worst ones, she had found herself crying over his coffin. Her throat constricted and she did her best to compose herself. Now was not the time to lose her temper. She still wasn't sure why that was more of a problem lately.

The door to the conference room was open. Winry stepped into the doorway then paused. Her presence was not noticed immediately. Standing around the table, looking at a map of some kind – the city perhaps – were Edward, Alphonse, and Hal Brewster. Brewster was explaining something, gesturing to the map, and Ed and Al were both focused so intently that she went completely unobserved.

Winry took a moment to observe while she had the opportunity. She briefly noticed that Al's hair was longer by a good inch – almost shaggy – and he looked a little leaner than she remembered, and somehow sturdier and more confident at the same time. Sad too and less… well less innocent. Something had gone out of his eyes though she could not say what.

Inevitably she was drawn to Edward. He was standing at an angle to her, mostly turned away, but she could see that he had changed as well. Like the others, he wore his uniform, though the jacket was currently slung over the chair in the heat of the day, and his sleeves of the dress shirt were rolled to the elbows. He wore no gloves, and his hair was back as always but the braid seemed a little longer than she remembered. The auto-mail needed a good detailing though it seemed in workable order. He looked pale, ragged, thin… Ed had been shot three months ago, but if someone had asked Winry without her knowing, she would have been sure it was less than five weeks.

Whether it was the obvious dents in the auto-mail, the way his shirt hung on his too-thin frame, or his absolute ignorance of her presence, Winry wasn't sure which, but the pain and anger she had been holding back ever since he left, that had been building for eleven months, _exploded_ without warning despite her efforts at calm!

Winry crossed the distance so quickly that Ed had barely started to turn around when her fist connected with the side of his face.

"Oww, damn it, what the –? Winry!" Ed clutched his face; his eyes wide open in shock and confusion.

She couldn't help it; she just started shouting. "I can't believe you, Edward! I didn't want you to go in the first place – didn't want you to get hurt – and what happens? And then you don't even send one word; not _one damned word_ to me to let me know that you're even _alive_ let alone okay, and all I get is _'I'm not dead yet?' _You never consider my feelings! You just go off, time after time, and almost always end up getting yourself nearly killed while I'm stuck sitting at home with the kids, worried _sick. _Well _no more! Never again!_ I can't take the pain and the heartache anymore!" It just hurt too much to watch him tell her flat out he was going when he _knew_ about her objections. That was why she was here now – she wouldn't be left behind again. He had _promised_ her that much! Before their _wedding_ he had promised her! She was supposed to get to choose when she was left behind, and he had sworn years ago not to run off without her. "_Do you hear me_? I won't wait around anymore to find out that you're dead! Cause one day that's what I'm going to get if things continue this way and I can't live with that."

Maybe it was the fact that Ed didn't even try to get a word in edgewise – if he wanted to – and the continued shocked confusion on his face that caused it to register that maybe she was coming on too strongly. This wasn't how Winry had meant their reunion to be at all! She had thought about rushing into his arms, crying probably, hugging him tightly and refusing to ever let him go. This – well this wasn't anything like that.

"I…I need to go," Winry spun on her heel then and tried to flee.

It was then that Edward found his voice. "Winry wait!"

She kept running. This wasn't what she wanted. The last thing she had been planning was to completely lose control, but her emotions had overwhelmed her without warning. Damn it, what was _wrong_ with her anyway?

"Winry!" A hand closed on the tail of her jacket and she was pulled up abruptly as his flesh hand settled on her shoulder. "Please! We need to –"

"Don't touch me!" _Not right now, please don't force this. _Winry turned sharply, wrenching away. Guilt flooded her as she saw the hurt anger in his eyes. He was so shocked that he just let go.

Tears streaming down her face, Winry kept running. Until she got herself under control she was too afraid to stay there. It would be a fight, a big one, and she knew she couldn't handle that either.

When she didn't hear him following, she slowed down and stopped around one of the corners, slumping to the ground and weeping into her knees. She would find him later, when she was calmer, and she would apologize. It was too late to start over, but maybe she could help him understand why she was upset. Maybe this time he would listen. Maybe eventually she would actually have an_ explanation. _

Winry wasn't sure how long she remained there, but eventually the sobbing ebbed and she got control of her emotions. She was too drained to be angry or hurt, though the guilt remained. No one had come by, so she figured this part of the embassy was not heavily in use. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve she stood, straightened her jacket, and started back in the direction she thought she had come from.

"Mrs. Elric!" Someone shouted her name and came around a corner. It was one of the medics from the unit she had been with.

"What is it, Toby?" she asked, doing her best not to look as if she had just been bawling minutes before.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something," the young Sergeant replied apologetically. "But it's orders ma'am. There have been attacks today all up and down about a fifty mile stretch of track and they're short medics. There've been a couple of auto-mail breakdowns that need repair as well and we're one of the teams they're calling up. They want us on the train in half an hour."

"Half an hour?" That was almost no time at all. It took twenty minutes just to drive down to the station! Her chest seemed to tighten for a moment. There was nothing for it. Duty had to come first. Edward wouldn't have forgiven her for abandoning her post to talk to him anymore than he would for blowing up at him in the first place; less so really. She would just have to talk to him later and hope this was a short trip. "All right. I'm coming." _I'm sorry, Ed. I'm so sorry. _

* * *

Edward stood in the empty hallway, staring in disbelief at the corner around which Winry had vanished. Her words echoed in his mind, running over and over as if a record were skipping in his mind. What did she mean _never again?_ She wasn't going to stand for this anymore? She wasn't going to wait?

He hadn't been expecting her. Winry was supposed to be safe in Central! Why was she here? When had she gotten to Aerugo? A million questions poured into his mind, but the only thing that kept registering – other than the throbbing pain in his jaw – was the look on her face as she jerked away and ran away…. Winry had _run from him. _

It was too much to take in. Ed turned and headed in another direction as fast as he could. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he couldn't face anyone right now. Winry wouldn't talk to him right now, and the last thing he wanted was to try and explain to Brewster and Alphonse. Hell, he didn't know _how _to explain, because he still wasn't entirely sure what had just happened!

* * *

Alphonse had been completely focused on the map and Brewster's newest idea for the best way to set up patrols in the city to minimize work for individual soldiers and allow more leave time for those who needed it that he missed Winry's entrance. His first clue that she was there was the resounding smack of a hand in Edward's jaw, and Ed's pained exclamation.

The tirade caught him entirely off guard! Al stared, too shocked that Winry was _there_ to really register what was being said until she was half way through. Then she was turning, fleeing.

Ed stood dumbly for only a couple of seconds. "Excuse me…gentlemen…" he murmured, and then he took off. "Winry wait!"

When he had gone, Al turned to Brewster, who was giving him a very confused look as well. "We should continue this later," Al said.

Brewster nodded. "Umm… yeah."

Immediately Al went looking for his brother, or Winry, whichever he could find! He didn't see either of them down the hall he thought they had taken off down. Worry set in immediately. He had no idea what Winry was doing here, but apparently Edward's concerns about her being mad at him weren't as exaggerated as Al had figured. Still, Al had rarely seen Winry truly furious – not in years anyway – and this was an incensed rage he had _never_ seen before. What the heck could Ed have done to set her off like that? Well, from her words – plenty.

Al searched for over half an hour and all he managed to get was a "yes, a blonde woman came into the building about an hour ago looking for General Elric" from a helpful staffer.

Trying not to be overly conspicuous, Al decided it might be better to find Ed. Winry would calm down eventually – she always did – and would return to her usual sensible self. Edward on the other hand… Ed had been so tightly wound lately that Al had just been waiting for the springs to pop like an over-wound pocket watch.

It took a lot longer to find Ed than he thought it would. Al finally had a hunch to try the less-occupied areas of the building. If Ed had left it, someone would have noticed him. He finally located Ed in one of the near-empty rooms in the farthest-most corner from the parts of the building that they currently occupied, in the wing that had been undergoing some repairs and redecoration before the mess with the government had abruptly aborted things.

Ed was slumped in a chair at a small table, arms resting on the table as he stared at a bottle of rum. It didn't take Al more than a moment to realize that his brother was already absolutely smashed.

"What are we doing here, Alphonse?" Ed asked angrily without even turning to look at him directly. "I hate this! I hate the _whole damned war_! _Be thou for the people._ Well, the Amestrians are safe, so is _that _the people? We're trying to do our best by the people of Aerugo too…but how do we know when we've done all we can? There's nothing _left_ we can do to be of any real help here. They have to do for themselves and find a solution that works for them. But how do you convince those ass-kissing Assemblymen sitting up in Central that what we need to do is get _the hell _out of here and go home… while there's anything left." He tilted the bottle and drank.

Al didn't interrupt. He had been trying to get Ed to talk for months and he knew well enough that sometimes this was the only way Ed _would_ open up and talk about things that deeply troubled him.

Ed didn't disappoint. "_Four months, Al. _Winry's been working as a doctor and auto-mail engineer in this hell-hole for four months and no one sent me a_ damned_ word. I found out from a medic with almost no rank to speak of and I'm supposed to be a frickin' General. Then today…" he cut off brokenly.

"She was angry. You know she gets mad when she doesn't hear anything and she's worried," Al suggested softly.

Ed shook his head, his hair bobbing in his face. "But what she _said_…. Did you see the way she_ looked _at me?" Ed buried his face in his arm against the table top, hair spread out across it: a pathetically sad sight indeed.

Al had seen part of it. He was still stunned by the force of her anger himself. But it had obviously devastated Edward. "Give her a little time to calm down."

"She's right, "Ed sighed then. "Damn it, she's _absolutely _right; every word of it."

Al hadn't been expecting that. "What do you mean?"

"I've known_ every time_ that she didn't want me going, Al, but I went anyway. I did what _I_ wanted to do. It's always easier to ask forgiveness than permission after all," he commented, the sarcasm so thick Al could almost taste it. "Winry _begged _me to retire after the Xing mess. She didn't want me to get hurt again, or get killed…and I gave her this pile of shit answer about_ teaching _and how what we'd learned was what helped _keep peace in Amestris_."

"Didn't it though?" Al asked sensibly. He wasn't entirely sure where all of this was coming from now, but he was getting an idea of just what was going on. It matched up with Winry's own statements. "And didn't you feel that way?"

"At the time I did," Ed admitted. "But even then I was doing it 'cause I wanted to. Winry told me_ then _how she felt and for _eleven more years_…I completely ignored her feelings. I may be the biggest ass-hole on the Continent."

"Well, certainly not the biggest," Al smirked humorlessly.

Ed tilted his head and glared at him. "I_ told_ her if there was another conflict I'd go," he replied, making no comment at all on the short jibe. That was never a good sign. "What moron let _her_ come down here anyway? That was a stupid call." He took a long pull, then set the bottle down again and buried his face in his arms. "Winry was supposed to be _safe_, not out here where something could happen to her."

"Winry's capable of taking care of herself," Al pointed out, more than a little irritated. Ed knew by now he couldn't protect everyone_ all _the time. Apparently he had forgotten that fact somewhere on this mission.

Ed lifted his face up, staring contemplatively at the bottle in front of him over his arms, his bangs hung limply down into his face. "You know what's funny," he said softly instead of answering the question.

"What?" Sometimes it was difficult following Ed's jumping trains of thought. It was odder still when he was drunk.

Ed gave a soft snort, almost as if he was laughing. "I haven't had a drink since Havoc died."

"Brother…. "Al was momentarily floored. He had to think back, but he realized that Ed was right. At least, Al hadn't seen him drink a drop of alcohol that he could remember in nearly two years. Not in any town they had passed through, even when it was offered. If he actually _thought_ about it the truth of Ed's statement was plain. How had he missed that?

"It just... didn't appeal; especially after what happened to Mustang." Ed's face screwed up then. "I never wanted to hurt her, Al. I just wanted to protect her from any more suffering on my account. Same _damned_ mistake again and again."

"Looks like you're making more than one," Al didn't mean to sound snappish, but he didn't like seeing Ed in this state. It reminded him too much of bad memories. Al reached for the bottle, but Ed snatched it away with a petulant glare.

"If you're gonna start with a lecture get the_ hell _out of here."

"Ed, this isn't going to help."

"One man's opinion."

"Damn it, stop being stubborn!"

"Save your breath."

"Don't you think this is kind of pre-mature?" Al felt momentarily helpless. The last thing he wanted to do right now was_ fight_ with Ed when what his brother really needed most was to think rationally and have some emotional support. Not that he was taking what was offered.

"'_No more. Never again. I can't take it._' '_Don't touch me_.'" Ed mimicked Winry's tone perfectly, but softer, his expression grim as he met Al's eyes. "Imagine _Elicia_ saying those things, Al. If it ever happens to you, then talk to me." He drained the bottle.

His words were stinging, perhaps cruel, but Ed made his point well. It wasn't Al's relationship seemingly on the skids. In a million years, Al would never have imagined this type of rift forming between Ed and Winry. And it seemed to have formed without him – or Ed – being aware of it. Or maybe not. Ed had_ admitted_ months ago that he and Winry had been fighting a lot before they left on this mission. That she hadn't been interested in physical contact.

"So Winry's right," Al said finally. "Then what? You talk it out. You go find her later, if she doesn't come back and find you first, and apologize."

"I doubt she'll come back," Ed laughed humorlessly, drinking again.

"I think she will," Al countered.

"I'll take that bet."

Al shook his head. "You'll see. Though you could always talk to her first. If not, I'm sure things will work out when we all get home and this is over. Things are pretty intense down here. Of course everyone's temper is running hot."

"If she even_ comes_ home." Ed slumped further in the seat.

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Edward," Al stared as his brother. Of all the things he never expected to hear – had Ed really just said he thought Winry was _leaving?_ "Of course Winry will come home."

"And if she doesn't?" Ed asked, looking up at Al with hopeless eyes. "I'm worthless without, Winry. Without her…what's the point?" Ed turned the bottle upside down. Not a single drop came out of it.

"Are you done now?" Al asked with a sigh. This wasn't going to go anywhere productive. Ed mildly drunk could think straight. His brother was _well_ past that point, and had just downed a rather large bottle of rum after two _years _of utter sobriety. Frankly, Al was amazed he wasn't already unconscious!

"Maybe?" Ed replied.

"Can you walk back to your room by yourself?"

Ed smirked. "Not a chance in hell."

At least he was an honest drunk. "Come on, before someone sees you." It was early evening now. Most folks would be at dinner so hopefully no one would miss Ed. Al reached out and hauled Ed to his feet. It was testament to Ed's frame of mind, and physical state, that he didn't even object or voice a word of protest. He didn't try and stand on his own either. No, it wouldn't be long until Ed was unconscious. Al would have been less concerned though if Ed _had_ done one of those things. Normally Ed's sense of dignity and his ego wouldn't let him accept Al's help without at least a token attempt at self-reliance.

Ed didn't speak all the way back to his room either. He wasn't asleep, but he didn't seem to be focused on anything going on around him. By the time Al almost literally _poured_ his sodden brother into bed, Ed had finally passed out.

Al took Ed's boots off and tucked him in. Yeah, Ed was out cold, and almost certainly would be until morning. Al didn't envy him the hangover he would have when he awoke. The one or two very minor ones Al had ever experienced had been enough to keep him from ever really over-indulging. He preferred other beverages most of the time anyway.

He left Ed alone, glad that his own room was only one door down and they shared bedroom walls. He could probably hear if Ed woke up during the night or got violently ill. Though he made sure there was a glass and full pitcher of water – and an empty wash basin – by Ed's bed so that when he woke up he wouldn't have to try and make it _out_ of bed.

After the emotional rollercoaster of the past couple of hours, Al wasn't particularly hungry, but he made himself head outside to the Mess to eat with the others. The Generals tried not to take _too _much advantage of the Embassy. It wasn't fair to the men. He went to eat because he knew he would regret it later if he didn't. His stomach was hungry even though his head wasn't, and his heart was heavy.

Something _was_ wrong between Edward and Winry, and while Al was sure whatever it was could be fixed, until it was he was going to be worried about two of the people he cared about most in the world.

**September 13****th****, 1952**

Edward was sure his stomach, his intestines, his head, his ribs, and – ah hell – most of his body had probably disowned him by now. Well, maybe not the auto-mail. That was the only part of him that _didn't_ feel like it had gotten worked over by a championship wrestler. It had only taken twenty minutes to empty his stomach of its rather limited contents, but he had spent two more hours dry-heaving before he got voluntary control back enough to sit up and get some water down.

He had jerked awake before the sun was even up, and lay sprawled across the bed, grateful for the wash basin on the floor below, until his eyes stopped crossing and his headache was only a constantly throbbing discomfort. Death wasn't worse than this…was it? He doubted it, because he was sure he would remember if it was.

_Winry…. Shit! _Ed's consciousness jerked him into action as everything from the day before reminded him exactly why he felt like hell. He was mostly dressed. That was good. Looking around – not too frantically, the sudden movements were very bad for his head – he spotted his uniform jacket draped neatly over a chair. _Thanks, Al._ Ed dragged himself out of bed and dragged on the jacket and his boots. He didn't bother checking to see how bedraggled his hair looked. Even a General was entitled to look mildly rumpled once in a while!

Ed headed straight outside and towards the area of the camps that he had learned only by happenstance yesterday afternoon in a run-in in the hallway that Winry was part of the medic unit that had come in yesterday. He strode right in to their hospital tent.

"General Elric," one of the nurses looked up and recognized him at once. "Can I help you?"

"My wife," Ed replied without preamble. "She's been working here."

"Well, yes, Sir," the nurse nodded, looking mildly confused. "She's not here, Sir."

"I need to speak with her…please," Ed tried his best to remember to be polite. It was hard. All he could focus on past the pain and occasional waves of nausea was Winry, and the urgency that he _had_ to talk to her!

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, General. She's _not here._ She's with the team that went back North on the train last night."

Last night? "What train?"

"There were several attacks." The nurse looked as confused as Ed felt, probably because she was explaining what was _apparently _common knowledge to a man who was supposed to _know_ these kinds of things already. "They were short doctors and auto-mail mechanics. So we sent over a dozen back up the tracks yesterday."

Gone. Winry was already gone – yesterday evening. She'd barely been here a couple of hours…. And she hadn't even waited for him to come tell her he was sorry. Obviously, if she was already here, she hadn't received the letter he had written only days before either.

Ed realized simultaneously that his hands were clenched and shaking and that the nurse was giving him a very concerned look. "General, is something wrong?"

He made himself relax his hands, his arms, and his back. His stomach kept rolling, and he fought down the urge to throw up again. "It's all right," he replied, forcing a small smile to his face as he shook his head slowly. "I'll catch her later. Thanks." With that, he turned and walked quickly out of the tent before he broke down right there.

Not that he could afford that particular luxury. He still had a Division to run, matters to settle, and there was still a war on. In some ways, the hardest part was yet to come. Ed couldn't afford to be distracted, and he couldn't afford to fall apart. He wouldn't think about if Winry was really _gone._ Maybe Al was right. Ed desperately hoped Al was right. Winry would come back, or they would meet up at home. If anything happened to her out here… well it was Ed's fault for promising she could come along and then running off without her, wasn't it?

He had another meeting to get to this morning; this one with Armstrong, Kane, and a larger number of the officers under their command. It would not be a good time to be late. The last thing Ed wanted to have to do was_ explain. _He just hoped Al had the sense not to say anything in front of the others.

This time, Ed paused to take a moment to re-braid his hair. Then he headed up to the conference room, which was already mostly full when he entered.

Alphonse and Brewster both gave him glances that combined worry and surprise. What? They thought he'd still be in bed? Probably; Ed certainly wished his was. He wished he had grabbed something to eat now too. Everyone in the room – even if they didn't know about Winry's showing up yesterday – could probably tell he was way off today. Still, Ed strode up to the table, ignoring the pain, the nausea, the jerking in his side where the heaving had aggravated the still-healing muscles. "Good morning," he flashed his usual confident grin. "So, what's on the agenda?"


	22. Chapter 22

**September 18****th****, 1952**

Alphonse was glad to receive letters from home. The day they arrived was brightened by the relief of a direct tie to life in Central. Elicia's letter was three pages, front and back, in her small, neat handwriting. There was one from Alyse that wasn't quite as long, but it talked a lot about everything she had been up to that, Al had to admit, had him sweating bullets about his daughter's very busy social life. She was even busier this year than last, though she assured him - with obvious pride - that she had passed her first year in high school with straight As. There was also a short letter from Will that talked a little about school, but mostly how guilty he felt heading off to University in East City while Al wasn't home. He felt like he was abandoning his mother and sister, and like maybe he should be doing more, but Elicia had insisted that he go so he had. Al was proud. He knew Will would be fine, and immediately planned to write a letter back. Will had included his dormitory address so that he could write.

Al also hoped that the letters would cheer Ed up as well. Elicia talked a lot about the rest of the family too, and Al was sure that Ed would want to know about Ethan, Aldon, and he hoped Ed would be willing to hear what Elicia had to say about Winry. It might help the situation.

Ed had been unusually upbeat lately; it was an abrupt shift from the way he had been for months to a seeming return of his usual cocky, sarcastic, confident self. The sudden shift, in Al's mind, meant that Ed was definitely covering. He was sure Ed thought he was successfully convincing everyone he was fine. It might work on the people who didn't know him as well, but Al knew that Ed was still hurting. The fact that Winry had left that very night didn't help. Al understood, he thought. Winry wouldn't have turned down orders either, not when people needed help. Ed said he understood. Yet in private, when it was just the too of them, Ed was often sullen, or lost in thought. He probably had no idea that he was doing it either. Al didn't call him on it. All that would do would make Ed defensive.

So, armed with his letters, and the one that had come for Ed from Ethan, Al left the tent that served as the 'Amestrian Post Office' on the grounds and went looking for his brother. It was late in the day and there was currently not as much for them to be doing other than paperwork, so he suspected that Ed was probably in his room at his desk getting reports out of the way. They had already copied all of their reports over the past months as they went, so organizing a large packet to ship up to Central directly hadn't taken very long. It was just the new reports that needed generating and copying.

Ed was in his room, as expected, and there were papers on his desk, but he didn't seem to notice them. Instead he was staring out the window at the grounds outside, and rank after rank of army tents that covered the lawns outside. There was a plate of food on the desk too, though it looked barely nibbled at.

"Anything interesting?" Al interrupted Ed's reverie, smiling as he dropped down on the bed.  
Ed shook himself and glanced over at Al suspiciously. "You're awfully cheerful." "We got letters from home!" Al replied, holding them up as evidence. "You've got one here from Ethan. And there's a lot of news in these," he held up the ones he had already read through once. "Good news too."

"Oh, great," Ed smiled, though Al could tell it was forced. "What does Elicia have to say?"

"Well, the big news is that you're going to be a grandfather again in a couple of months," Al grinned. "Aldon and Cassie are expecting another baby."

That, at least, seemed to register with Ed whose smile turned genuine. "Another one? That is good news!"

"I thought so," Al chuckled. "Everyone seems to be fine. Alyse and Ethan and Will all pulled off top marks at the end of last school year, and she's pretty sure they'll do it again this year. Alyse is doing well...everything she was doing last year and then some. I don't know where she finds the energy. And Will's already in East City."

"University's started already hasn't it," Ed nodded, as if he too was realizing just how much time had really passed. A lot had been happening at home while they were gone. "So," he asked after a long pause. "What does Elicia have to say about...other people?"

He was fishing, and Al guessed that he knew exactly what Ed wanted to know, and he doubted it was about what Roy, Brahm, and Breda were up to in the war room or Riza's newest hair style. "She mentioned that Winry was heading down this way to help out as a medic and auto-mail engineer," he replied casually.

"Is that all?" Ed asked skeptically.

"No, not everything," Al admitted with a sigh. "She said Winry was really upset about how she treated you before you left, but she was mad at you too."

"I got that much from the little explosion we had here the other day," Ed scowled, his good mood evaporated. "If you're holding back information, Alphonse I'll beat it out of you if I have to."

He would too, but Al wasn't in the mood for a brotherly scuffle. Besides, Ed was still recovering and Al didn't want to risk hurting him. Doctor Knox had said Ed's side was finally mostly healed up, but it was still sensitive and Ed was still recovering in other ways. "She said she encouraged Winry to come, and that apparently it was Ethan's idea that Winry should do what she had always wanted. What you promised she could."

"Damn that promise," Ed's temper flared and he slammed his fist down on the table. Al was glad it wasn't the auto-mail or it might have damaged the table. "She shouldn't be here, Al. How the hell am I supposed to get things done worrying about her all the time? Did she think of that do you think? Or maybe she did and this is just to get back at me."

"Oh come on, Edward," Al snorted. "You really think Winry helping the injured is some kind of petty revenge?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," Ed glowered at him. "But apparently I'm the only one who sees a problem with this situation. She could get killed out there!"

"So could I, so could you," Al reached out and poked Ed in the arm. "We both almos_t did._ How do you think Winry felt? Do you remember when I said she'd be worried when you didn't want to tell her? I said she'd want some reassurance you were all right didn't I? Were you listening to what she said when she came in, Ed?"

Ed stood up abruptly, the chair rocking as he shoved it back. "I wish I could forget. Just leave it alone, Alphonse. I already know how badly I screwed up all right? But that goes both ways. If Winry's so upset about how she treated _me_ than she should have come in here apologizing not hitting me in the face!" There was still a small bruise where Winry had connected, though Al had explained it off to anyone who bothered to ask as Ed and him getting in a little sparring practice now that he was cleared for light exercise again.

"Calm down, Ed," Al tried to keep a rein on his own temper. At the moment he was getting the idea that hitting Ed wasn't really such a bad solution. "I was hoping that maybe a little outside perspective might help."

"Well you thought wrong," Ed was shouting now, his face gone red, though Al wondered if Ed were more likely to hit him or break down. Instead, Ed surprised him. "I'm sick of this; this entire mess. I'm going to go give those wise-ass politicians a piece of my frickin' mind and tell them to get their asses in gear and fix this damned mess so we can all get the heck home!" He flung his jacket on over the rest of his uniform and stormed from the room.

Well… shit.

* * *

Alphonse didn't even try to stop Ed. Instead, he gathered up the letters, grabbed his own jacket from his room, and hurried after him. Maybe he could do some damage control. If not, it was sure to be an interesting show.

And an interesting show it was. Not long, but explosive and to the point. Edward stormed onto the floor of the old Senate room where all of the various factions, with the Amestrians offering suggestions and overall keeping the peace, had been meeting daily. It was the only room big enough to easily hold everyone. It also made an excellent stage.

"Can we help you, General Elric?" Ambassador Talasky blinked, looking startled as Ed's footsteps echoed loudly in the room, even over the sounds of people talking.

"You sure can," Ed replied sharply. He had his work-face on, and Al simply waited in the doorway as the Fullmetal Alchemist addressed those assembled in true form. "You can stop dickering around like a bunch of hens in a farmyard and do something real about this mess! This isn't about fishing rights, or casinos, or who the hell owes who what. This is about the people of Aerugo who are sick and tired of being screwed over time and time again while the likes of you dither and scheme and deliberate and pretend you give a damn!"

He looked up at the few living members of the old government, and then at a lot of the under bureaucratic types who were going about their business who had been there likely for some time. "There are a damn lot of fine people in this country! I know; we met a lot of them on the way here. There are good leaders, honest citizens, people doing their best to make a living, and all they want is the government to fulfill its promises. And you know what; those promises weren't all that hard! A town that needs the road fixed so it can take its produce to market in a bigger town; or needs more patrols to keep the roads through the jungles safe." His voice softened a little as he talked about the people, no less impassioned, but not angry.

"There are people who love this country, and would do damn well better leading it than the lot I see here," Ed continued. He was on a roll now and nothing was going to stop him until he was finished. Alphonse watched the stunned faces in the room - some furious, some shocked - but noticed that no one dared to interrupt. Al smirked and crossed his arms as he leaned against the door frame and just led Ed rant. Maybe it would get some of his aggression out of his system. "Why the hell _aren't_ those people here? That's what I want to know. You need people here who actually represent the interests of the people who live here. Not just the ones who make their money by dealing in illegal artifacts or fleecing the populace. Get those people in here; from every region, from all those towns that may not seem like much but are the backbone of this country and _build something great_. Aerugo has an amazing history and culture, but it's all being _wasted_ or exploited. If you can't celebrate what actually makes this country worth something, and admit where that worth is, than everything you're doing here is worthless anyway." He paused then, took a deep breath, and shrugged, surprisingly quiet. "But what the hell do I know right? I've just spent my entire life's work considering the subject." Then he turned, and walked out again, pushing past Al without as much as a nod. He might not have even noticed that Al was there.  
Inside the meeting chamber people began to murmur. Then the noise grew into chatter as some of them spoke up in outrage, and others asked questions. Well, if nothing else, Ed had definitely stirred them up a little!

Al turned away and headed back towards the Embassy. He'd give Ed a little time to cool down before he talked to him again. If nothing else, what he had just witnessed was the most _Edward-like_ Ed had been in a while.

**September 20****th****, 1952**

Bueáire at last! Sara had been grateful when her battalion was finally relieved and received orders to join up with the rest of their part of the First Division in the Capitol. Her men definitely needed a little R&R and she was dog tired herself. As soon as her men started setting up camp, Sara went looking for Kane to report in. She headed into the Embassy, since the military had felt it best to keep their base of operations somewhere other than the Government buildings in the center of the city. This was an occupation, but it was not an attempt to take over the country permanently, and while not everyone would make that distinction, a lot of people _would_ understand the difference.

It wasn't hard to get directions to the conference room that currently served as the command center for Amestrian forces in Aerugo. There was a lot of talking, the door was currently open, and she recognized the majority of the voices emanating from it.

She recognized the faces too as she entered. The Strong Arm Alchemist, Sky Fire Alchemist, Major General Brewster, a couple of other lower officers, and the achingly familiar faces of her father and Uncle Al. It took all of her learned formality not to run across the room and hug them like she would have when she was a child. Instead she waited until Kane spotted her first. Then she saluted. "Lieutenant Colonel Elric reporting, Sir. We've arrived and camp is being made as we speak."

"At ease, Twilight," Kane nodded and Sara relaxed her stance a little. "What's the news?"

"We lost another forty men holding the city, sixty wounded," Sara reported. "The men are ready for a rest, Sir. What are your orders?" They were ready for one, but that didn't mean they would get it if they were needed. Fortunately the city itself seemed relatively peaceful with nearly half the Amestrian military camped inside it.

"Forty-eight hours leave for your entire battalion," Kane smiled. "Yourself included."

Sara had to restrain herself from cheering outwardly. She smiled. "Thank you, Sir."

"There is one thing I would ask before you go," Armstrong interrupted, looking apologetic. He gestured to the larger map on the table, the one covering all of Aerugo from Bueáire up the line to the border. "If you could correct any information on here you believe to be incorrect or have anything useful to add."

Sara nodded. "Of course, Sir." She moved over to the table to take a look.

The rest of the meeting didn't last long. They had been almost finished when she arrived, and there was very little she could add that intelligence and other officers above her hadn't already wired in.

As they broke it off for the afternoon Sara slipped out of the room and spotted her father walking off ahead of everyone else. She hurried her pace to catch him. "Hey, Dad!" Edward stopped, then turned his head and Sara slowed her steps in surprise at the sharp look on his face. Oh! "I mean…Fullmetal, Sir," she corrected. It had been a long time, and while she was used to referring to everyone else by title automatically, she hadn't been thinking of her father as anything more than that ever since he left.

"Yes, Twilight?" He replied formally, his expression coolly professional.

Sara wasn't sure what to say for a moment. She had expected her reunion with her father to be very different. "I wanted to talk," she said finally. They could go somewhere private where they didn't have to be officer and subordinate. "It's been a while."

"I've got some business to take care of now," Edward replied. "Maybe later."

Maybe? Sara scowled. "All right," she replied instead of asking him what the heck he thought he was doing like she wanted to. Over eleven months since they had spoken, and he treated her like any other soldier! Didn't he want to talk to her? Sara watched her father walk away, feeling stung and confused.

"Sara!" Her uncle's enthusiastic tone made her turn and she found herself caught up in a comfortingly familiar bear hug. "I'm glad to see you."

She could have cried. "I'm glad to see you too," she replied, hugging him back tightly. She loosened up after a minute and looked up at him. "Uncle Al, what happened to Dad?"

Alphonse's smile slipped from his face. "A lot." It wasn't much of an answer, but Sara got the message. It wasn't something to talk about in the hallway either.

"You want to go get something to eat and catch up?" Sara suggested. She desperately wanted to know what was going on. Her father could act the officer well enough when he had to, but he had never been cold with her before.

"I'd like that," Al nodded, the smile returning. "You look tired."

"It's been a long war," Sara replied with a smirk and a shrug. "Oh, there's an old friend of yours that's hooked up with my unit fairly recently I think you'd like to see."

"A friend of mine?" Al asked curiously.

Sara nodded as they started walking. "Yeah, a doctor named Pitt Rendak."

"Pitt's here?" Al's expression was priceless as his eyebrows nearly climbed into his hair, then he chuckled. "Talk about unexpected! I take it he's doing okay."

"He's been patching us back together pretty well, so yeah," Sara chuckled. She kept talking as they walked down to the Mess, got food, and found an empty table in a corner. She tried to keep the conversation light. Her uncle was different too, even if he still acted like himself for the most part. He seemed drained, weighed down by burdens that Sara now understood to be those of the officers in command and those who fought and killed. She remembered what her father had said once, and now understood it to be true. Her uncle's eyes had changed, and the sadness and knowing in them made her ache for him as well.

It was Al who finally brought up the subject Sara had been wondering about, though he came to it in a round-about way. He told Sara about their travels – the short version obviously – and the battles they had fought. He told her about the tunnels, and the boy Ed had killed; the mission where they had both been shot and Ed nearly killed; the death of Matthias Wood and Ed's rather spectacular tidal wave of earth that had thoroughly demolished a good chunk of the Aerugean army. It was no wonder her father seemed so closed down. "He was holding up surprisingly well until recently."

"What happened?" There was some part of this story that was blatantly missing, and Sara was waiting for a _straw that broke the llama's back_ story.

"Winry was here," Al replied softly. "Apparently a few weeks ago she got tired of waiting in Central and volunteered to serve as a medic and auto-mail mechanic. She arrived in Bueáire and things kind of…exploded."

"_Mom_ is here?" Sara exclaimed, staring at Al. It wasn't that she couldn't see her mother doing something like that, but she had figured she might have heard _something _about it! It explained the lack of a recent letter. "Wait. They had a fight?"

"A pretty spectacular one," Al nodded somberly. "Cause us both off guard, but Ed told me a while ago that he… well he thought maybe something was wrong. I don't know the details," he held up one hand, forestalling the question that died on Sara's tongue. "Just that she was really upset with him for taking command of this mission."

"But haven't they made up yet?" Sara couldn't imagine her parents staying mad at each other for long. When they both lost their tempers it was sure to be a spectacular fight, but it was always over quickly and back to reasonable.

Al shook his head. "She got orders and was gone again in hours back up the line to help with the wounded."

"Shit." Sara couldn't think of anything more appropriate to say – at least that wouldn't have gotten her slapped and grounded as a kid. "Well we'll all be home eventually right?"

"That's what I told Ed," Al nodded, smirking slightly. "You know your Dad though; he's still fretting about it."

"That makes sense." And it explained a little better why he was so distant. He was probably trying to hold in all of the conflicting emotions that came up in those kinds of situations. Her father might be classified as a genius, but Sara knew full well how muddling his emotions were. She got her emotional side from her father in a lot of ways and had seen him deal with it before. "Well that sucks. I hope Mom's okay."

"She was pretty furious," Al sighed. "But she seemed all right otherwise. I doubt they have her out on the lines anyway given her specialty."

Sara realized that it hadn't actually occurred to her that her mother might be in physical danger. She had just gotten that used to war apparently. "Maybe that's what Dad's really worried about." If she were him, the thing that would have her wound tightest would be worrying about the person she loved most possibly being killed instead of safe at home where they should be.

Al had obviously come to the same conclusion. "That, I think, is right on the mark."

**September 22****nd****, 1952**

It took some time after they arrived in Bueáire before Maes got a day of leave. Until then, he refused to let Elena go around the city by herself. Though she made good use of the military's information system to find out any information she could about any remaining family she might have. The news was painful. Both of her sisters-in-law and her two nephews were also dead, and Maes held her as she cried after finding out the news.

"Are you sure this is worth it?" Maes asked her as they made their way half way across the city from the Embassy to the part of town where Elena used to live. "It's dangerous."

"I refuse to let those vultures ravage what remains of my family's estates," Elena replied with a rare fierceness that Maes knew better than to argue with. So he continued to follow her into a rather nice part of town and up to the bank that held all of the assets of the Albaracan family.

Maes hoped they didn't take his presence as an affront as he followed Elena – now in a much better dress than the utilitarian things she had been in for most of their travels – as she walked confidently up to the desk and began speaking in rapid Aerugean. Maes spoke the language all right, but he followed only about half of what she said. What he picked up was that she was inquiring about a transfer of accounts and had rattled off a long string of numbers.

The man looked startled at first, then nodded and sent another banker to the back. He eyed Maes suspiciously, and Elena abruptly informed him that Maes was a long-time friend of the Albaracan family and her protection within the city. That seemed to be enough. Maes simply stood there and tried to look pleasant. After a couple of minutes they were led to a small room with a table and chairs and told to wait.

"What's going on?" Maes asked when they were alone.

"I informed them that as the sole remaining survivor of the Albaracan family, I would like to consolidate _all_ of my father's and brothers' assets into one account, empty the vault, and have everything transferred to my father's account in the bank in Central."

Well now that was interesting. "Your father had an account in Central?"

"It was easier than banking from Bueáire," Elena gave him a slightly amused chuckle. "He kept the house we lived in up there too. My father loved his country, but he was always realistic about what Aerugo is. He and my brothers worked very closely together to make certain that the rest of us would be provided for if anything ever happened to them."

"Which explains why you have your brothers' bank accounts memorized," Maes shook his head. Talk about planning ahead. "What's in the vaults?"

"The deeds to the lands and houses, a few family jewels, and all of the most important family documents," Elena replied.

"And how do we know they aren't reporting you to the police right now?" Maes asked. Technically, with Amestris now in control of the city, there should be no way they could realistically arrest Elena, but that didn't mean one of the insurgent groups wouldn't find Albaracan's daughter an effective hostage or martyr.

Elena patted his arm. "Please have a little faith, Maes. My father was well liked, especially around here where everyone knew him. The man who owns this bank is a long time family friend. I used to play with his daughters when we were small."

"If you say so." Maes relaxed, if only slightly. He trusted Elena's judgment, but this wasn't a familiar city and he couldn't help but be concerned. Though he was still adjusting to the renewed fire he had seen in her since her arrival. The fearful woman who had come out of the woods near Havah was rarely in evidence. Maes knew Elena was nervous, he had learned to read her much better already than when they had met again, but the determination and confidence she displayed put in him mind of his own mother when she had her sights on a goal – or a target.

Elena smiled warmly and kissed his cheek. "I know what I'm doing," she said softly as the door opened and the man who had met them at the desk came in with a large locked box and a small stack of paperwork.

::Here you are, Miss Albaracan,:: the man replied. This time, Maes had a slightly easier time following the conversation. ::This should be everything. Once we go through it and sign the forms all that will need to be done is to transport the items to Amestris. May I suggest you not use the local post?:: The last actually seemed to be a joke.

Elena chuckled. ::I have made arrangements for safe shipping, Mister Rodigues:: she assured him. Then she took the key the banker handed her and unlocked the box.

The contents were just as she had told him, though Maes' eyes widened as she pulled out the deeds to her father's house, and the two that her brothers had acquired when they had married and moved out. There were also the deeds to the business that belonged to one of her brothers and the birth certificates of the entire family, as well as copies of all the other legal documents and – perhaps most importantly Maes guessed – Elena's father's will and the wills of her brothers.

Another banker joined them as a further witness while Mister Rodigues read through the contents of every document and the wills which, one and all, declared that everything in the Albaracan family would go first to the men's wives, and after that to any remaining direct blood relations. As the deaths of Elena's family were a matter of public record, there was no contention to be had.

Maes tried not to ogle the jewels that Elena said belonged to her mother, and her grandmother before that, and back several generations. When it was done, the box was locked again. It was surprisingly not that large, and easily fit into the military rucksack that Elena had asked Maes to bring with him. Now he understood why. Who would expect items of so much value in the beat up bag of a soldier?

::Are you sure that's wise?:: Rodigues asked once more when Elena put the box into Maes' pack. The look he gave Maes said what he meant.

::Are you questioning the honor of my fiancé?:: Elena asked with a cool stare.

That took the man aback. ::No, Miss,:: he recanted immediately. Then he pulled out a smaller case and opened it. Inside were several stacks of paper bills, bundled together. It didn't take Maes more than a second to register that he was looking at what remained within the Albaracan accounts…in cash. Well, how else would they have transported it? They were fairly large bills. How much money did Elena's family _have_? ::This is the official statement that everything has been handed over to you from this bank with the intent to go into the bank in Central,:: the man then handed Elena an official looking document with a couple of different seals on it that was also signed and dated. It proved that everything was, in fact, Elena's and that none of it was stolen goods.

The rest of the transaction was quickly dealt with, and before long Maes was once more following Elena down the streets of Bueáire, but this time with a small fortune on his back! "Where are we going now?" he asked.

"Home," Elena replied, her tone softer than it had been earlier.

It only took a few minutes to reach the burnt remains of what had obviously once been a very large house sitting on a couple of acres of land. The neighborhood was up on top of the biggest hill on the southern side of the city – taller even than the hill in the center of the city on which the capitol buildings stood. It wasn't the only house on the block that had been destroyed either, though several remained almost pristinely untouched. Maes wondered if those were the houses of people who had sided with the new regime. He had to keep his fingers in his pockets. It was too tempting to snap and send them to the same fate as their neighbors if they were. He didn't know though.

Elena only paused briefly to glance at the wreckage and kept going down the street a couple of houses. Then she knocked on the door and waited. Maes fidgeted on the front step. They were far from the Embassy if something went wrong, and while Elena seemed to have full confidence that the Firebrand Alchemist was enough to keep her safe from any danger, Maes would have felt better having a little more back up.

The door finally opened, and an old woman blinked out at them, then her eyes widened. ::Elena? Dear girl what are you doing here?::

::Resolving matters,:: Elena replied. ::It is good to see you, Dora. Is Missus Varez here?::

::The Mistress is in,:: Dora nodded. ::Please, come inside.:: Then she noticed Maes and stopped cold. ::A friend?:: she looked questioningly at Elena.

::A very good one,:: Elena replied simply. ::And my protection from anyone who would still seek me harm.::

The woman –apparently a servant or hired help of some kind – led them inside and through the house which truly was a mansion. It made the Mustang house in Central seem almost _humble_ in comparison.

They were shown out the back onto a large veranda in a beautifully flowering garden. Sitting under the shade of a large branching tree, at a small table, was an elderly woman whose soft silver hair seemed to Maes at odds with her skin, the same softly tanned color as Elena's. The woman rose stiffly and Maes stopped moving, unsure how to proceed.

Elena set the mood. She smiled brilliantly and ran to the woman. The two hugged tightly for nearly a minute before Elena stood back.

::I thought I told you to flee, child,:: Missus Varez shook her head. ::Bueáire is no longer the place for you.::

::I could not without seeing my family's matters settled, and finding out for certain if any survived,:: Elena explained. ::But please, may we speak in Amestrian? It would be more polite with given company.::

It was then that Maes found himself the full focal point of sharp old eyes. "I would never wish to be impolite," the woman said with the same accent that Elena had, if slightly thicker. "Though it has been some time since I had occasion to speak it."

"You speak very well, ma'am," Maes replied politely.

"Just who are you, young man?" Missus Varez asked.

"This is my fiancé," Elena cut in easily, still smiling. Maes was glad she was having a good time. _He _was beginning to feel like a mouse in a hawk's nest. "You should remember when I have talked before about Maes Mustang."

The look in his direction did not soften, but grew more intent. It wasn't anger or suspicion, but Maes suspected the woman could sum up a person in moments with a gaze like that. "You are the son of Roy Mustang." It was not a question. "An unexpected guest in my house indeed, but I suppose that you are a friend then. Indeed, Elena has spoken of you before. She once told me that my great-nephew and you had much in common."

Great-nephew? Maes was confused.

"Marco," Elena clarified in a word. The woman was Elena's last fiancé's great-aunt! "Auntie," she turned back to the woman. "I wanted to know, was anything salvaged from the house, or was it all destroyed in the fire? I thought if anyone knew anything it would be you."

"You thought right, dear one," Missus Varez smiled kindly at Elena, softening once more. "Though there wasn't much, certainly not worth keeping or restoring."

"I was hoping…." Elena swallowed, and Maes caught a glimpse of the girl he remembered in her face as she tried not to cry. "My mother's box. Did you find it?"

Wouldn't a box have been burned in the fire? At least, that was what Maes thought. He was surprised though when the woman nodded, smiling. "We did find that. Dora," she waved at the woman. ::Please get the box that is sitting on my bedside table.::

Dora vanished inside, but was back quickly with the item in question. Maes understood then why it had survived; the entire thing was made of metal. It was slightly melted, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Elena cradled it like a treasure, treating it with more care than she had anything that had been in the bank vault. She carefully opened the lid and tears began to stream down her face.

"Elena, what's wrong?" Maes came forward, putting his hands gently on her shoulders.

Elena wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. "These belonged to my parents."

Maes looked down into the box. Protected from the slightly molten metal by thick lining lay three rings, clearly sized for two different sets of hands, a single strand of black pearls, and a small framed photo of what Maes supposed to be Elena's entire family. His hands slipped from her shoulders and he embraced her from behind in a comforting hug. "They're beautiful," he replied softly.

Elena picked up the two smaller rings, both gold, though one held three good-sized diamonds. "My mother always said she wanted me to have these someday," she sniffed, "So that I would be as happy as she and my father."

On impulse, Maes slipped the bejeweled of the two of out Elena's hand. He had nothing to give her himself yet that would have been appropriate, but he could think of nothing better to signify their promise to each other, not with what he had just learned. He came around to face her, and took her hand in his. "Then you should honor her wish," he smiled as he slipped it onto the appropriate finger. It fit perfectly. "We both should."

Elena looked at him in momentary wonder through her tears. Then she smiled. "We may need to resize my father's," she chuckled. "Your hands are bigger."

Maes kissed her hand before letting it go. "I will give your father my apologies many years from now when we meet again," he grinned.

"You were right, child," the old woman chuckled from outside Maes' field of view. "He is much like Marco."

Elena looked over at Missus Varez. "I must apologize to you, Auntie, and dear Marco, but I fell for Maes first."

"I had rather guessed," the woman smiled as Maes turned his head to see her expression. Apparently she was unsurprised. "Keep her safe, young man."

"I will," Maes nodded soberly.

"Take care," Elena stood and hugged the old woman tightly again. "I expect it will be a long time before I come to Bueáire again once we leave." Maes did not know how long they would be in the country; all he knew was he wouldn't leave it without Elena and he was already working on a variety of ways to get her to Amestris.

"As long as you are safe and happy, that's what matters," Missus Varez replied. "Now you should go. Even with soldiers keeping the city safe you should be somewhere more secure."

"Yes, ma'am," Elena smiled. ::I love you, Auntie.::

::And I you, Elena.::

Maes kept quiet long after they left the house behind and until they were back down into the main part of the city. He felt safer surrounded by Amestrian patrols, especially with everything of value Elena possessed on his back. What he had witnessed gave him a lot to think about, and Elena did not seem inclined to talk. It was a good half hour before Maes realized they weren't headed back to the Embassy. "Where are we going now?" he asked suddenly.

Elena turned her head to look up at him with a serious expression on her face. "There is one more thing that I must do. I wish to have a few words with my government."

"What? Elena!" Maes sped up and stepped in front of her. She didn't want to go to the Senate hall! From the look on her face, Maes realized that was exactly what she intended. "Are you crazy?"

"Perhaps," she replied, glaring up at him. It was the first time she had looked at him angrily, and Maes almost took an involuntary step backwards. His mother had that look too. "I have to, Maes. Please understand. I promise after this I won't leave the Embassy until we leave Bueáire."

How could he say no to those dark, pleading eyes? The fact of the matter was he couldn't. "All right," Maes sighed, stepping out of the way. "But if anyone tries to hurt you, you can't complain when I get shot instead of you."

"It's a deal," Elena chuckled, and they continued up the hill together.

Maes was glad that Elena at least asked permission politely to address those assembled inside – Amestrian and Aerugean alike – and waited patiently while her request was delivered to the Senate Hall. Apparently the Amestrians at least were interested in hearing what she wanted to say, because they were both permitted to enter. Maes had heard about Fullmetal's rather spectacular tirade not too long ago in this same room, and he had the sneaking suspicion he was about to see something familiar. He almost pitied the government officials;_ almost. _

The room was quiet as they entered, and Maes stayed to the side as Elena stepped to the center of the floor and took the podium, looking for all the world like she belonged there. Of course, she was an Ambassador's daughter; naturally she would be comfortable in this position. Her expression was one of firm determination that barely hid smoldering anger. "Thank you for agreeing to hear me," she said first. "Though I am sure the only ones here who care what I really have to say are the Amestrians and perhaps the few of you here who care one wit for this country. All I wish to say is this. Today I saw what has become of my home. In the past months, I have seen the atrocities that have been allowed to take place within our borders, sanctioned by our own government. For _years_ these things have been allowed to take place and covered up. _This_ was not what my father worked so hard to build an alliance for! This is not the Aerugo my father loved or taught me to love as my home. I love the people of this country and our heritage, but I _hate_ what Aerugo has been allowed to become."

"And what gives you the right to pass judgment on things you know nothing of, girl?" The voice was one of the older men in the room, an Aerugean unsurprisingly, who sneered down at Elena.

"You think that I know nothing?" Elena glowered. "I know that your family has over two million dollars invested in illegal artworks from Creta, Arques Heron! It insults me to see you sitting in this room deciding the fate of a country where the majority of those with money are corrupt."

The man blustered a moment. "Lies!"

"Are they?" Elena smirked. "You used to play cards with my father. My father taught me politics as well as manners, sir. I know all that he did about how the game is played and how a government _ought_ to run. My apologies to those of you here that I do not know," she looked at a few faces. "Because that means you are not among those who were part of the original problem as far as I can know. I can only hope that your arrival heralds a new day for this country. My thanks to those of you here who will hopefully guide Aerugo into a prosperous state," she looked mostly at Amestrians then, Maes noted, but also several Aerugeans in the crowd.

"Please, if nothing else, find an end to the corruption and the violence that plague our people," she continued, more impassioned now, but less angry. "My father loved Aerugo and they killed him for it. Our people deserve better." For several seconds, Elena stood in silence, the room quiet now. "Thank you," she said finally. Then she stepped off the podium and walked calmly out of the room. Maes glanced up one last time before he followed her out into the hallway.

In the quiet beyond the doors, Elena turned and fell into his arms, clinging tightly to Maes like she feared him vanishing too. He put his arms around her. It had been a very emotional day so far! "Feel better?" he asked softly.

"I do," Elena replied, her face buried in his chest. "Thank you, Maes."

"You were magnificent," Maes replied, a feeling of pride had come over him as he watched her and it did not fade. This beautiful, delicate, vibrant being that cared with all her heart about so many things beyond herself belonged to him; or would soon enough. How he was fortunate enough to have her love him he did not know, but Maes would rather die now than lose her. "My Elena."

"I like the sound of that," she whispered. "Please promise you will never stop saying it, just like that."

Maes smiled and whispered again in her ear, "My Elena."


	23. Chapter 23

**September 24****th****, 1952**

Winry wiped the sweat from her brow with one sleeve-covered arm as she watched the soldier whose arm she had just bandaged head back out of the field hospital. It was only mid-morning, but he was the twentieth patient she had seen that day for injuries alone. She had also done a dozen minor auto-mail repairs interspersed among the wounded. While the governments talked things out, the war continued for the common soldiers in the trenches – so to speak – and Winry was getting a very good first hand view of it.

The tactics of the guerrilla groups were less by the book than the Aerugean army had used against the Amestrians. Dirty tricks seemed to be the name of the game with some units, and the wounds were rarely clean. Thank goodness for the supplies that came regularly, because otherwise they would have long since run out of disinfectant, bandages, and a lot of other critical supplies.

"Take a break," she heard Alec's voice and looked up to see him waving in her direction. "You look beat."

Winry nodded and pulled the rag off her head that had been keeping her hair back and out of the way. She was hot, and tired, though she really didn't feel like she ought to be so exhausted given she was just standing around most of the time. At least that was how it felt when she wasn't working directly with the auto-mail. Working machinery was always a workout, but most of what she had done lately was patching up flesh. Maybe it was just proof that she wasn't twenty anymore. Either way, Winry wasn't going to complain. She just kept her mouth shut and pushed through it.

With permission to get a little rest, Winry got a large glass of water and retreated to the tent she shared with three of the female medical officers. There was something she wanted to do with that free time, something she hadn't been able to sit down and think through in the twelve days since they had been rushed back out of Bueáire having barely arrived.

Her heart in her throat, Winry pulled out paper and pen and began to write. It wouldn't take long for a letter to get back to Edward from here. Only a few days at most even with the fighting still going on all around her.

_Edward,_

_I know this is later than it should be, and not nearly enough, but I'm sorry for what happened in Bueáire. I didn't mean to lose my temper like that. Yes, I know that it's not that unusual, but it's true. Yes, I'm still mad about you taking the mission and nearly getting killed, but I love you and I was overwhelmed. I reacted badly. I don't know when I'll get back to Bueáire, or if I will before we get back to Central, but I didn't want to leave you wondering where we stood. I feel terrible about what happened and I wish it had turned out differently. Please know that all I want is for us to get home safely and be together again. Take care of yourself. _

_Love,_

_Winry _

_P.S. Get your auto-mail cleaned too. It looks pretty badly abused. _

It wasn't much, but it was the truth. She had felt guilty about the entire thing since it happened, and regretted not finding him again before she left more every day. Since when had she had so little common sense? She felt like a teenager again, or worse. Well, they would sort everything out when they were together again. She promised herself that, and she had promised Ed. They would talk, as they always did, and maybe finally he would be ready to just _stay home._ Was it so much to ask that he didn't run off into life-threatening situations _on purpose_?

Winry put the letter in an envelope, addressed it, and went to the tent that served as the communications center for the unit she was with.

"You're in luck," a female Sergeant smiled at her. "Private Kant's about to head out for Bueáire with the Noon convoy," she motioned to a young man holding a sack. The convoy was taking correspondence and dry goods down to the city.

"Would you please take care of this," Winry handed it to him. "It's… it's important."

The Private looked down at the letter, registered the addressee and nodded. "Of course, Ma'am. I'll hand it to him personally."

"Thank you," Winry smiled then headed back out. There was just enough time to grab some lunch before she was needed back in the workshop. She was doing some major reconstruction on a couple of auto-mail limbs that had been pretty nearly destroyed the day before and hoped to have them repaired by the end of the day so they could be re-attached tonight.

While she knew it probably wouldn't happen, Winry hoped they would remain in one position until Ed had time to write her a reply.

**September 25****th****, 1952**

"So how much longer are we going to be sitting in this hell hole?" Edward grumbled as they looked at the Aerugo map for the five hundredth time that day. Or at least that was how it seemed.

"Until things quiet down," Kane sighed, gesturing at the markings that indicated over a dozen hotspots up and down the rails and roads between them and home. "Or until we get orders to get back out there in the heat of things."

Ed was mildly surprised they hadn't gotten those orders sooner. "Might be preferable to sitting around like park pigeons," he replied.

"It's not like our men aren't working hard here," Alphonse countered sensibly. "And we haven't really been here that long in the grand scheme of things. The men are tired, and our numbers are down. All we'd really accomplish by going back out is raising the death toll on our side."

"As if we aren't doing that by letting the ones out there deal with these rogue units all on their own," Ed shook his head. He was feeling irritable. He wanted action, not politics and policing city streets that were finally calming down enough that he suspected the local authorities could handle the job on their own now that they had been cleaned out of any corruption themselves. And hadn't _that_ been a thrilling task?

"We lost part of a convoy coming to Bueáire this morning," Armstrong nodded, apparently agreeing with Ed, at least partially. "Three trucks were destroyed. The soldiers in them were all killed."

"Was it a munitions convoy?" Brewster asked with a concerned frown.

Armstrong shook his head. "No; communications and dry goods mostly. Still, it's a shame to lose good men." Letters and flour. The people were definitely the worse loss. Their cargo meant nothing to Ed.

More deaths to add to the toll for getting involved in another country's mess. Damn it, why did they have to be the ones here fixing things? Not that _they_ were doing a whole lot to help at this point. Now that the _major_ combat was supposed to be over, no one was paying much attention to Generals as long as the streets were quiet and the battles weren't in view. The hypocrisy grated on Ed's sensibilities, and that definitely didn't help his nerves. Of course, lately almost nothing _helped_ his nerves.

"Let's wrap it up for now," Brewster sighed after a few more minutes. "I don't think we're going to accomplish anything new until we get in the next reports."

Armstrong nodded. "Splendid idea. Perhaps an evening spent in less destructive pursuits would reinvigorate us for tomorrow's tasks."

"Yeah…right," Ed agreed, half-smiling. He wasn't amused. While he had always found Armstrong a little over-enthusiastic at times, he liked the man a lot. They had been friends for years, especially since he and Alex and Al had all started working on the State Alchemy Program together years back. Lately though, the man was just a little _too_ larger-than-life.

"Hey, Ed," Al caught up with him outside the door as Ed was heading back to his room. "You want to do something?"

"Like what?" Ed asked without slowing down. "There's not a whole lot to do around here. I don't think the locals really want us sight-seeing and I'm not really in the mood for an Aerugean drama film."

"Well that's pessimistic," Al sighed, falling into step beside him. "Fine, you come up with something fun to do. We need to relax sometime right?"

"I really don't feel like it," Ed countered, wishing Al would just take the hint and leave him alone. There wasn't much of anything Ed wanted to do _in this place._ He wanted to get this mission over with and go… well, anywhere else. After the way Winry had attacked him, he wasn't entirely sure that home would be as welcoming as he'd hoped.

"Well fine," Al shook his head. "Be that way if you want to, but lighten up on everyone else a little okay? You've got anyone under the rank of Brigadier leaping at shadows and spit-polishing boots for fear of a surprise inspection."

"No reason to let things get lax while we're sitting around here looking pretty is there?" Ed huffed. In truth, keeping busy was the best way to keep him from focusing too much on all the thoughts that bothered him lately. He couldn't stop thinking about the things they had done, the mistakes he had made, and the look on Winry's face as she ran from him. The last… well, there was always something he could come up with to do. "Fine, you want to do something? Let's spar."

"I meant something that wouldn't damage you," Al replied sardonically.

"Knox cleared me for light exercise," Ed pointed out.

"I think he meant normal things like, you know, jogging," Al shook his head. "Strengthen the new muscles slowly, that kind of thing. You always over-do it."

"Hey, you just said I had to come up with an idea." This was getting them nowhere. "Look, forget it. I've got things to do."

"Like what?" Al still wasn't leaving. "Sulk in your room and invent new paperwork?"

An argument about reports died before it ever reached Ed's lips. "Damn it, Al. Do I_ have_ to be in a good mood?" He reached his room and shoved the door open, going inside knowing Al would still be right on his heels. As he heard the door close behind his brother he let out his frustrations. "I've had it, all right? Stop with the damned optimism! I'm sick of this war. We shouldn't even be here. Thousands of people are dead and it's not just because of _orders_ I gave, I killed an awful lot of them personally. And you want to know what's worse? I don't even feel guilty about that. No, I feel _guilty_ about not feeling guilty about it at the time. Talk about messed up right?" He started pacing the room.

"What good have we actually _done_ in all of this, Alphonse? Can you tell me that? Other than marching for months, slogging through hell and watching our men get picked off like insects by people who most of them didn't even _want_ our help in the first place. We weren't _asked_ to come here. We just did it, and like an idiot I let ideals get in the way of reality. This is one big bloody murky mess, that's all it is."

"Ed! Whoa, calm down," Al was staring at him like he'd lost it. Well, perhaps he had. "I know this has been tough. We've done our best, and we knew people were going to die going into this. Besides, we have done a lot of good too."

"Prove it," Ed challenged.

Al sighed and leaned back against the door, part of his hair falling into his eyes. It had gotten shaggier over the last year, Ed noted randomly. "What about all those villagers, Ed? The ones who _did_ ask us to come here? What about the people we've protected, and the ones whose deaths have seen justice because the men who ordered them dead are no longer in control? _We _ousted a corrupt government. And you've seen Elena Albaracan around right. Remember her? She went to school with Maes and Sara. She's still alive most likely because we came here. I'd say we've helped a lot of people, Ed."

"You would see it that way," Ed sighed. He knew why Al did. Al chose to look at the positive, even when Ed knew Al had nightmares about the things they had done, because it was how Al dealt with the world. There were days Ed wished he were capable of doing the same. He thought he had been able to once, but if so he had forgotten.

"You have too," Al pushed on. "Remember your little _chat_ with the committee rebuilding the government the other day?"

"Yeah," Ed shrugged, but smirked slightly. That had been pleasantly refreshing.  
"What of it?"  
"They took your advice," Al smiled. "They're having all of the districts send representatives of all the major economic groups in those areas. It's taking a while for the districts to choose representatives and send them, but it's a start right?"

How had Ed missed that? "Well it's something," he acknowledged. That had to be the first time anyone had taken his political advice, and it was about damned time.

"See," Al chuckled. "Was that so hard? Come on, Ed. As bad as things are, the world isn't ending."

"Yours isn't," Ed snorted, turning away and stripping off his uniform coat to get into something more comfortable for a night technically off. Optimism was depressing.

"Is this about Winry?"

Ed dropped the coat on a chair. "No."

He'd replied too reflexively. "Liar," Al replied just as firmly.

"I mean it," Ed turned around again. "Do you really think I'm so focused on my personal life I can't keep my mind on my work?"

"I didn't say anything of the sort," Al scowled. He stood up and opened the door. "But if you don't want to listen and you don't want to do anything that might actually be pleasant, than fine; I hope you have a good evening keeping yourself company." He didn't stomp out or slam the door, nothing even remotely that dramatic. Al just slipped out the way he always did, closing the door carefully behind him.

Well, damn. Ed hadn't actually meant to aggravate his brother. Al was having a tough time of it too; maybe even tougher than Ed was. At least Ed was used to the guilt. He kicked off his boots, then went over to his desk and poured himself a drink. Picking up the glass he walked to the window and looked out across the sea of tents to the Embassy walls, then the city beyond. In the far distance he could barely make out the hills that rolled northward, covered in trees. Somewhere out there was Amestris.

He sipped and watched as the sun dipped off to his left and the shadows lengthened. So apparently there were people listening to what they were saying, and people who valued the work they had done, however horrendous it was, however much Ed was becoming more and more convinced that a lot of what he had done went against his training as much as directly violating alchemy's greatest taboo had.

Still, some good was being done. _Some_ people were being served, and he could hope it was the majority. _Some _people's families would be saved and spared.

But at what cost to others?

Was there a point where serving _the people_ ever included the alchemist?


	24. Chapter 24

**October 2****nd****, 1952**

Edward was not surprised when they got the report with new orders for the military who had been part of the original push into Aerugo. He joined the other Generals in the command center as Armstrong gave his report.

"All of the Eastern Division will be going home as soon as reinforcements arrive in Bueáire," the large man smiled over at Edward, Alphonse, and Hal Brewster. Brewster actually let out a small whoop and Al was grinning ear to ear. Ed made himself smile. It was about time. "The entire First Division will also be returning to Central."

"Remind me to give Breda a kiss when I see him," Kane laughed, clearly joking.

"I want a picture if you do," Al laughed as they all broke out into spontaneous discussion of what they were going to do when they got home. Everyone except Ed anyway.

Something tugged at Ed's memory, and it took him a moment to realize what was dampening his spirits. "Hey," he cut into the revelry. "What about Winry?"

He'd have thought someone had dropped a rotten egg the way the merriment stopped cold. "She came in with the tail end of the Second Division." Ed had never seen Alex Armstrong look quite so apologetic, and that was saying something. "Their orders are to replace us here in Bueáire while fresh troops handle the rails. Though since she's working as a medic that could change."

Since she was working as a medic she could be reassigned even longer. Yeah, Ed understood perfectly. He was going home, Sara was going home, but Winry would still be out there at risk and – he thought bitterly – very possibly having the time of her life without him anyway. Ed noticed that he was getting a lot of sympathetic looks. "That's what I figured," he replied, nodding as if he had just been confirming information. "So, anything else?"

That got them briefly back on track. Armstrong finished off the details of the report, and Ed was glad that no one said anything else. He felt stupid now for even mentioning it. He should have been able to figure that out for himself. Winry had joined up on her own, and they needed people with her skills right now more than they needed him. She had done what she felt she had to, despite his objections that he had never actually voiced because he had never thought it necessary.

Now Ed was getting a taste of what he deserved, and it was bitter. Ed dodged Al coming out of the meeting, purposefully taking a different route than usual and heading out of the Embassy completely instead of going back to his room. Maybe tonight was a good night to get a feel for Bueáire. After all, they wouldn't be here too much longer.

* * *

As soon as Maes heard the news he felt elation and dread in the same moment. The Amestrians of the First Division were going home! But that meant he was fast running out of time for convincing them to let Elena leave Aerugo and come back to Central with him.

It was late evening when he entered Armstrong's office with Elena at his side. Maes had never made demands of his superior officers before. The worst he had ever really done was mouth off to Kane. There was a lot more at stake now though. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned that the Sky Fire Alchemist was also in the room and, from his expression, Kane obviously already knew what Maes wanted.

"I take it you're here to try and convince us to make an exception to the no-expatriation rule?" Kane asked without preamble.

Maes shook his head. "Actually, I'm here to convince you that the expatriation rule doesn't apply to Elena." It might be a long shot, but it was the best plan he had come up with.

"Oh really?" Armstrong asked, looking intrigued. "And just how do you plan to manage that?"

"With evidence," Maes replied seriously. Now was not the time for sarcasm. "Elena spent three years living in Central. She went to high school with me there, and her father owned –and still owns- a house in Central. His accounts – now Elena's accounts – with the bank in Central are still active. Surely all that counts for something." Laid out, it really didn't sound like all that much given how short the argument was. Maes only hoped it would be enough.

Kane and Armstrong listened with neutral expressions. "We'll pass that information along to Central," Kane finally said without even glancing at his commanding officer. "That's a question for HQ. But don't get your hopes up, Firebrand."

Not only had they been expecting this question, they already had discussed what to do about it?

Maes nodded. "Understood, Sir. Please, be apprised that depending on the outcome of that answer, I may be handing you my resignation."

_That_ got Armstrong's attention. Once again though, Kane didn't seem fazed at all. "You mean receiving discharge papers," he countered. "You can't leave the military while on active duty in a war zone. You know that as well as I do."

"Yes, Sir. I'm prepared to accept any charges you want to throw at me," Maes replied resolutely. "I'm not leaving Aerugo without Elena, and this seems to be the only way to manage it." Creta had closed their border with Aerugo completely just as Aerugo had done with them and currently no one was going in either direction until diplomatic discussions were finished. The new Cretan president has resolutely refused to get involved in the combat side of conflict or counter the Amestrian mandate against expatriation.

"You realize that we could arrest you now for declaring that intent," Kane pointed out sternly. "You'd be taken back to Amestris a prisoner of war and branded a traitor."

Maes nodded. "Yes, Sir. But if that's what you've got planned I'd rather you just shot me." He felt Elena's hand tighten on his and heard a small gasp of surprise. He hadn't told her just how far he intended to take this conversation. He wanted it _clear_ how serious he was about this. Elena was not a whim. Maes had spent a long time soul searching over the past couple of years, trying to figure out what he really wanted out of life for himself. Now, he knew without a doubt.

Kane shook his head. "You're a pain in the ass, Mustang. Fortunately this time you get to be a pain in someone else's. Like I said, I'll pass that information up to Central and let them deal with it."

"Thank you, Sir." There wasn't much else Maes could say at this point. At least the case would be heard. He could only hope that anyone back at HQ really cared enough to work on the case diligently.

"You're dismissed, Mustang."

Elena remained silent until they were back outside the office. "You didn't tell me you were going to say that," she commented, clearly upset and slightly irritated. "I don't want you to give up your career for me, Maes."

"Like I told them," Maes rested his hands on her shoulders, "It doesn't mean anything to me without you. Besides, Kane would be more likely to reassign me to a unit that's staying here than actually have me arrested and court-martialed." Or at least, that was what he was betting on. He flashed Elena a grin. "They need me as an alchemist more than as a soldier, and they wouldn't do that to my folks if at all possible." There were times having the name Mustang had almost certainly been about all that saved him from worse than he had deserved.

Elena shook her head. "Arrogant and too bold, and yet," she smiled, "oddly reassuring."

Maes chuckled, relieved that she wasn't too angry. His expression softened again. "I know we could wait until things changed, Elena, and then you could come later, but I don't want to risk that. I don't want us to be separated again. If anything happened to you I don't think I could live with myself."

"I don't want us to be separated either," Elena assured him. "Just please don't throw away everything you've accomplished when a little patience can get what you want too."

Maes kissed her. "Now I know I need you," he smiled. "You're the voice of reason."

Elena chuckled as she kissed him back. "One of us has to be."

**October 4****th****, 1952**

The village that Winry followed Alec and one of the medics through was a fairly small one a couple of hours walk from the main road. She had her auto-mail kit on her, as always, but today they both carried full medical kits and were escorted by four armed soldiers for protection and the man who had come requesting help. A request had come for medical aid when the town's folk had apparently tried to argue with one of the groups of guerrillas about letting them stage out of the town and take supplies, and several people had been injured.

Winry was definitely beginning to miss the weather in Central. It seemed wrong that it should still be so hot and humid so late in the season. "How much further?" she asked Alec.

"Not far," he replied gesturing to the building ahead of them near the edge of the trees. "They gathered the wounded here." Alec was along because he spoke the language better than either Winry or Doctor Thames.

It was a long, low building, and the room at the end was where they were led. A couple of women were there, obviously functioning as nurses. Several cots had been set up and five men lay on them, ranging in age from mid-twenties to one man who looked to be about sixty. They were all suffering from gunshot wounds. Winry followed Thames' directions as they got right down to business.

By now she could remove a bullet, sterilize, and bandage a wound as efficiently as any of the full time medics in the military, and often with more precision thanks to her auto-mail experience. That seemed to help the patients as well. A few soldiers had commented that having her do it hurt _less_ than most doctors. Winry took that as quite a compliment.

It only took them about an hour to tend to the wounds of all five men. In one case, Winry tried not to look – or cry – as Thames gave one of the younger men an injection of the strongest painkiller they had brought with them, and then quietly informed the younger woman that there was nothing more they could do for him, that there was internal injuries that they couldn't fix and he likely wouldn't last the night. The girl began to cry and Winry realized that the two of them were probably involved. From the lack of a ring, she guessed they weren't married but she didn't treat him like a brother as she kissed him and held his hand.

"We should get back," Thames shook his head and led them out. "That's all we can do for them."

"It doesn't seem like nearly enough," Winry commented softly as they walked back through the village.

"It never is," Alec replied, looking as depressed as Winry felt.

They were just passing a barn on the other side of town when a shot rang out, and one of their guards dropped. Immediately the other three soldiers returned fire in the direction of the shot.

"Get under cover!" The Sergeant shouted.

Winry followed Thames and Alec as more shots rang out. She ran for the barn, feeling her ankle twist as she tripped over a tree-root. She didn't stop despite the pain that shot up her leg as she hit the door last, falling into it behind the two men. Thames slammed the door behind her as Winry stumbled to a stop and fell to her knees on the wooden straw-strewn floor, panting heavily. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry as she gritted her teeth and worked through the pain. After a minute the worst of it seemed to subside, though it still throbbed and hurt like heck.

Outside, the shots continued for another minute before they died down. Winry opened her eyes and looked around. Alec was down on a pile of straw, with Thames looking at a wound in the man's shoulder. The straw and his shirt were stained with blood. "Alec!" Winry struggled to her feet and limped over, wincing every time she tried to put her foot down, and finally resorting to undignified hopping. "Are you all right?"

"I've been better," he smirked, grimacing as Thames pulled back his shirt and probed the wound with his fingers.

"It went clean through the muscle," Thames declared. "Not bad considering. Let's get it cleaned up." He reached for his kit and pulled out a cloth, a bottle of alcohol, and some bandages. "What about you?" he looked at Winry.

Winry lowered herself to her knees. "I can't put my weight on my ankle," she informed him calmly, despite the pounding of her heart. Why had the shooting stopped? Were the soldiers dead?

The question was answered a moment later as the door opened and the Sergeant entered with one of the Privates behind him. They both looked grim, but unharmed. "How's everyone in here?" he asked. "We lost Jons and Runnel, but we got the guys who were shooting."

Two more soldiers dead protecting them. Winry bit her lip.

"We'll need some assistance getting out of here," Thames replied. "He can walk," he gestured to Alec, "We'll see about her." He moved over to Winry and gestured for her to shift so he could see her ankle.

Winry did as he asked, refusing to cry out as she did so. The pain as he removed her boot and made her bend her ankle was enough to make her whimper though. Damn it, she was tougher than this!

"Sprained," Thames determined after a minute. "Rather badly, but nothing appears to be broken." He pulled out some bandages and wrapped the ankle tightly to hold everything in alignment. "Don't walk on it for a few days and we'll have a look at it again when we get back to camp."

When the party set out for camp again the mood was even lower than before. Winry limped along leaning against Thames' shoulder while the Private carried her medical kit _and_ Alec's. The Sergeant kept his gun ready and his eyes alert. They left the bodies behind. They would send someone for them later if they had the opportunity. Winry tried not to think of the families in Amestris who had no idea their boys had just died.

No one talked, and it took half-again as long to get back as it had to get out to the village. Winry was still contemplative as one of the full doctors took a look at her ankle again. "Definitely sprained," Doctor Gloria Moss confirmed, shaking her head. "This will be a couple of weeks in mending at least, and you should really not be standing all day on it after that. I'm going to recommend you go home, Winry."

"But what about our work?" Winry objected. She knew they needed every hand they could get.

Doctor Moss smiled. "You've done a lot, but this needs to heal, and I'm sure your son misses you."

Ethan; Winry had written him several times to let him know she was all right. She had mentioned that Edward was as well, though all she had said was that she had seen him and he was okay. She hadn't received a reply to her letter to Ed, and Winry wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. "You're right of course," she sighed, nodding. She missed her sons – both of them – and Elicia, and their friends. Sara too, though it would be longer before she saw her daughter. Winry had done her part. Now, it was time to go home.

**October 6****th****, 1952**

It was the middle of dinner when Maes received a summons to the command center. He obeyed, giving Elena's hand a nervous squeeze as he left the table.

When he arrived, the large room was crowded with all the upper level Amestrian Brass in Bueáire! It made sense. Now that they were getting ready to move everybody _out_ on the trains coming down with their replacements, the officers suddenly had a lot more work to do. Sara had been busier the last few days herself.

Maes stood at attention near the door until Kane spotted him and waved him over to the desk. "Firebrand," he nodded shortly as he bent back over his paperwork. "There's a call for you."

"A call, Sir?" Maes frowned.

"Just answer the phone, Major," Brewster smirked as he shoved the receiver into Maes' hand.

Well that solved that problem. Maes put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"And here they were telling me reports of your survival were exaggerated," the familiar, sarcastic tones of his father's voice came over the line.

"Dad?" Maes blurted out, surprised. This was not what he had been expecting.

Roy snorted. "Who else do you think they called when you decided to stir up trouble, kid?"

Trouble? "Wait, they made _you_ work on Elena's case?"

"He catches on fast," Roy chuckled, and Maes got the feeling someone else was in the room. "Breda's not impressed with your mental acumen this evening, I'd worry," he joked.

If his father was joking, Maes desperately hoped he had good news. The last thing he needed from this was a major let down. "What's the word?" he asked instead of rising to the bait.

"You've gotten serious haven't you?" Roy sighed. "All right. What I wanted to tell you was that it seems that Albaracan does indeed still own land in Central and have an account here. More importantly, it looks like his youngest two children were also registered in the system as Amestrian citizens for having attended school here."

Citizens… "Does that mean—"

"Just what it says, genius," Roy snickered. "Your lovely lady is a citizen of both countries, and that means that offering her political asylum is perfectly within the rules."

Political asylum instead of expatriation; why had he put it that way? "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"If there was, do you think I would answer that question either way?" Roy replied.

"Well, no." Of course not. If his father and President Breda had manufactured any of the evidence to get Elena into the country, Maes would just always be better off not knowing the truth. The entire thing might very well be legitimate too. In the long run, it didn't matter. Elena would be leaving with_ him. _"Thank you, Sir," he replied, remembering at the last moment not to act like a kid and thank his Dad. He could be professional.

"I need to get off the line," Roy chuckled, "But Maes….this girl had better be worth it!"

Maes chuckled. "Don't worry, Dad. She is. You'll like her. She's a lot like Mom."

"Oh help us," Roy groaned on the other end. "They'll either get along great or kill each other. Either way you and I are both in a lot of trouble."

"Yes, Sir," Maes smirked. "See you soon."

"See you." It was only two words, but Maes knew that his father was looking forward to having Maes safely home as much as Maes wanted to go home. He hung up the phone and looked at Kane. "You know."

Kane nodded, then grinned. "Get ready to move out, Mustang. We're out of here in four days and there'd better not be any loose ends."

"Yes, Sir!" Maes saluted smartly before leaving the room. His heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time as he hurried downstairs and out of the Embassy doors back into the tent city outside. They were going home, all of them, and he and Elena would be together. He couldn't wait to give her the good news!


	25. Chapter 25

**October 10****th****, 1952**

A year and a week ago they had been boarding a train heading for South City. Today, they were doing the same only the destination lay in the opposite direction. The trains from Central arrived late the night before and unloaded all through the night. Loading began before dawn, and true morning saw the trains packed once more with soldiers and rolling out of the station.

"Anybody going to miss this place?" Brewster asked the assembled Generals with an ironic twist on his smile as he looked out the window of the observation car as they pulled out of Bueáire's main station and headed north.

"Hell no," Edward snorted. "I don't care what they do to this place, I don't think even the most convincing tourism brochure could ever get me back here."

"Oh I don't know," Alphonse commented from the other side of him. "There were some really nice places and people, you know? Maybe in a few years I wouldn't mind coming back."

"Maybe in a few years the place will have imploded and we won't have to worry about it," Ed grumbled.

"Edward!"

Ed winced. "Sorry, Al." It was just easier to apologize for his grouchiness lately than get defensive or argumentative.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Kane cut in then, stepping up to them all, his hands full of bottles.

"What is this?" Brewster asked as they all took what Kane offered, even Armstrong.

Kane smirked. "Cheap Amestrian beer. What else would you toast with, gentlemen?"

Even Ed barked a laugh at that, he popped the bottle open and waited. "So, what's this toast?"

Kane held his open bottle aloft. "To peace and home!"

Ed ignored the twinge in his heart as he knocked his bottle against the others.

"To peace and home," they chorused.

**October 14****th****, 1952**

The days passed as they usually did on a train: slowly. Ed soon bored of playing cards with Alphonse and chatting with the same people he had been talking to for months. Almost inevitably conversation turned to talk about what everyone was going to do when they got home, and they all seemed to have utterly forgotten that Ed was going home to a mostly-empty house. Well, Ethan was there, and Ed looked forward to seeing his youngest son, but it wasn't going to be the same. Winry wouldn't be there, and Ed didn't even want to contemplate that, even if she lived, there was a chance she wasn't coming _home. _

So he did his best to keep distracted. Ed spent a little time in the observation car chatting with Pitt. He hadn't seen his old friend in a long time, and he was fortunate that Pitt – unlike almost every doctor Ed had talked to in the past year or more – seemed to be content to let Ed be and just talk. There were no questions about his health, none about his injuries – beyond the usual impressed friend conversations – and a few laughs and stories of good times that were long gone. Pitt seemed to need distraction from the things he had witnessed too, and a few drinks and stories worked well for both of them. In some ways, Ed was glad to see they hadn't changed.

He spent a little time with Sara too, since a lot of the alchemists had ended up on the same train. Sara, Maes, and Elena were just a couple of cars down. Not that Ed sought her out. He still felt guilty about how he had greeted her in Aerugo, even though he felt it had been appropriate to keep distance. It was easier that way; especially now. He knew Sara had talked to Al, and knew about his fight with Winry. There was always an unasked question in her eyes when they talked at all, and Ed wasn't ready to answer. He hugged his daughter, told her how proud he was of her, and left it at that. There would be time for real reunions as a family when they were_ all_ home.

Ed and Al claimed a berth for themselves. They had that option, and Ed was glad for it. Even when he wanted to be entirely by himself, he was used to sharing space with Al, and Al had stopped pestering him about things he didn't want to talk about. Most of the time they sat in companionable silence, or discussed topics that wouldn't lead to argument; the weather, philosophy, history, unsolved questions of alchemy. Usually the conversations didn't last long. They both slept a lot too.

Ed watched his brother, and he still felt the guilt he had ever since the night he ordered Al to bring down the tunnels on innocent captives. Ever since, his brother had changed, and there was no getting around the harsh realities of war. Al knew now the things Ed had learned young and hoped his brother would never experience. He had killed deliberately, even when he didn't want to. Necessity was not always right. The lessons had been learned the hard way, and Ed knew that Al would pay for it just like the rest of them.

His brother no longer slept peacefully. He fidgeted, and often cried out, or came awake the same way Ed did from nightmares. He drank more. Perhaps not drastically so; but more at _all_ was noticeable in Alphonse, who still preferred tea, juice, or plain water over almost anything else. Often Al would get quietly contemplative – not unusual in and of itself – but there was a heavy sadness; regret, guilt.

Ed hoped that his brother would forgive him. Ed hoped _Elicia_ would forgive him for the changes following Ed into war had wrought in her husband. Either way, he knew he would probably never entirely forgive himself.

* * *

Sara leaned against the wall of the train by the window and watched Maes and Elena, who were on the bench across from her. Maes sat by the window as well as the dark night passed them by. Elena had fallen asleep a little while ago, her head pillowed on Maes' shoulder, a blanket around them both. Since then her old friend hadn't moved a muscle, though his gaze shifted occasionally from the barely-visible passing countryside outside to look at his fiancée. Sara couldn't remember the last time she had seen Maes looking so calm and happy.

"Do you believe in angels?" Sara asked him with a tired chuckle. "Cause you keep looking at her like you expect her to fly right out the window."

Maes grinned. "I think I might," he replied. "Whether there are more, I don't know, but she's definitely mine."

"I'm glad for you." Sara felt the familiar tug of longing and loneliness that had accompanied her for the past year. She missed Franz terribly, and while she had all of his letters carefully folded and tucked away in her pack above the seat – including the well-worn picture she had carried with her through battle after battle and night after night – all she wanted was to feel his arms around her, smell his after-shave and taste the kisses she missed. Even in the short few months they had been together before she shipped out for Aerugo, she had gotten used to having him there. She saw him at work, and more often than not he had slept in her apartment, especially before she left. Sara was suspicious from the tone in Franz's letters that he wanted something more permanent, and she wasn't opposed. She just hoped it wasn't her own hopes reading things into the words that weren't really there.

Maes shot her a sympathetic glance, as if he had read her thoughts. "I'll bet Franz is going crazy waiting for us to get back."

"I hope so," Sara laughed. "So how long are you going to wait after we get back before the wedding?" she teased.

"A month, maybe," Maes replied, and he wasn't joking. "Why wait? We both know what we want, and the people who matter most will be in Central."

_Except Mom,_ Sara thought, though she pushed it away immediately. She knew her mother would be home eventually, though it sucked that her orders would keep her in Aerugo longer.

All of her emotions must be out on her face lately, because Maes blanched slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, I wish your Mom could be there too."

"Maes, it's okay," Sara cut off his babbling with another tired smile. "I know, and I don't want you to feel guilty for being happy." She must be exhausted if she was this easy to read. Of course, this _was_ Maes. He knew her that well. "I'm glad for you. After everything that's happened, it's about time you found a little happiness."

"Thanks," Maes blushed slightly. "For a bit there, I really thought Kane might have me court-martialed. Or at least arrested just to make a point."

"Maybe the latter," Sara agreed. Threatening to leave the military hadn't been Maes' smartest move, but she was sure it had convinced the higher-ups of his sincerity in the matter. "Are your parents happy?"

"Well I haven't actually talked to them since Dad called," Maes admitted. "But I really think they'll like Elena. I'm pretty sure they remember her family. And it can't hurt that she's completely self-sufficient," he added with a very Mustang grin that Sara knew meant he was teasing. "It looks like her father actually paid off the house in Central, and it's more than big enough, so we don't have to find a place. I can just move out of the barracks."

"I remember that house," Sara said. "It's about the same size as my folks' place isn't it?"

Maes nodded. "It is. Different layout, but lots of big rooms."

"Planning on filling them?" Sara asked with a knowing smirk. Maes had already admitted that Elena wanted a large family, and that he wasn't opposed to the idea though the two of them apparently had slightly different definitions of _large._

Maes laughed. "I figure we can start with _one_ and go from there."

"That might be the wisest choice you've made in a while." Sara readjusted her pillow which was pinned between her head and the wall.

"Wisest perhaps," Maes agreed, squeezing his sleeping bride-to-be gently with the arm around her shoulders, "but _this_ was the best."

"Yeah," Sara agreed as she closed her eyes and let herself drift. "I think you're right."

**October 17****th****, 1952**

Alphonse was more than ready to be home. Nightmares not withstanding, most of his dreams were filled with images of Elicia and the kids; their home and the daily activities that went on there. He even missed Headquarters and seeing all of their friends who had remained safely behind.

A year; it was hard to imagine what they had missed in a year. The letters he had received in Bueáire only scratched the surface, he knew, and it was different to hear about something than to experience it first hand day to day.

Will wouldn't be home. He was off at University, a grown man stepping out into the world. He would be home during the winter break of course, but Al was sorry to have missed his departure. It would be strange not having him there.

If the letters were to be believed, Al would have his hands full worrying about Alyse! She seemed to be the darling of Central High even barely into her second year; sports teams, social committees, clubs, and class president. While Elicia had skimmed the topic, purposefully he was sure; Al knew that his daughter was no doubt getting more than enough attention from the teenage boys she associated with.

Elicia was who he needed the most. As much as Al loved his family, and extended family, he craved his wife in a way he had never realized he could. It wasn't carnal; it wasn't lust, though he missed her touch and embrace so badly that hurt too if he thought about it too much. It was her tenderness, and the way she always soothed his worries, laughed when he over-reacted, and just made the world seem more even. She listened to his fears and offered judgments only as needed.

Al just hoped she wouldn't be disappointed in him; the things he had done and the person he had become. He hadn't told her everything in his letter home. Most of it he wanted to tell her in person. The words were too harsh in print, and he never wanted to put them down as such. Besides, she would see most of it for herself soon enough. He felt like he had abused his duties and abilities as an alchemist, and failed a lot of the men who had died under his and Ed's command. While he knew those feelings were natural, that didn't mean he felt better about having them. Al was really looking forward to having someone to talk to about all of this.

He would have liked to talk to Ed about it, but he knew that bringing it up would only start a fight. Much as Ed tried to pretend he was all right, Al knew better. Sometimes Ed would attempt to act normally, but as they got close to him, he pulled in on himself, preferring to be alone with his thoughts and often a drink. His brother spent a lot of time staring out the window with a forlorn expression that Al had figured out pretty quickly meant that Ed was thinking about Winry.

Al worried about Winry too. Was she all right? He was sure she felt bad about what had happened in Bueáire. She wasn't vindictive or mean-spirited by nature, and war was hard on everyone. She had been in the combat zones too as a medic; seen the wounded, the dying, and the dead. The realities of a full scale war were more horrific than even Al had given them credit for before this. Winry was such a sensitive, caring spirit, easily hurt even though she rarely showed it.

Going home would be good for all of them, he was sure. Now they would have time to heal and get back on solid footing. Then, perhaps, things could return to some semblance of normal. Or at least, get back to the way they should be. Al wanted nothing more than to put the worst elements of the ordeal behind him and get on with life.

**October 19****th****, 1952**

The night was misty, and the trees vibrant colors hidden in the dark when Winry's train arrived late in Central. She had been put on the first one out of Aerugo from their location and had spent the several day trip resting in a private berth, her leg propped up on a cushion, with little to do but think. At a stop within Amestris itself she had picked up a book to read to try and keep herself distracted. It had worked occasionally, but a light hearted novel was not enough to keep her mind off of the people she had watched die despite their best efforts, the child she had saved, the fear that had seized her when she had thought she might die in that barn. Worst, her memory kept being haunted by a hurt pair of golden eyes.

However, the golden eyes in the face of her teenage son were not hurt. They were bright with eager excitement and a tinge of worry as Winry hobbled off the train on crutches, a porter helping carry down her back and auto-mail kit. "Mom!" Ethan hugged her tightly, and Winry dropped a crutch to hug him back. It felt so good to have him in her arms.

"I think you've grown again," Winry scolded, even as she smiled through tears. "Have you been behaving?"

Ethan rolled his eyes but never stopped smiling. "Sure I have."

"And I'll vouch for it," Elicia chuckled as she came through the crowd that was disembarking to join them. "Welcome home, Winry."

"Thanks," she hugged Elicia too. "I've never been so glad to be home."

"I'll get your bags, Mom," Ethan said as he thanked the porter and picked them up. "You have great timing!"

"I do?" Winry gave him a curious look as they moved slowly through the crowd towards the car.

Elicia nodded. "Yes. After we got your call yesterday we got a call from Breda. Edward, Alphonse, Sara, all of our crew are coming home on the train tomorrow."

Winry felt a surge of relief followed by a small twitch of worry. "That's great," she smiled anyway. Everyone was safe and coming home. The war might not be over for Amestris and Aerugo, but it was over for her family. There was just one small – all right, large – concern that she had left hanging over her.

Why hadn't Edward answered her letter?


	26. Chapter 26

**October 20****th****, 1952**

Edward stepped off the train in Central in the early morning light with a feeling that was an odd mix of relief and disconcerted unease. He was home, like he had wanted to be for months, but for some reason it just didn't feel right.

All around him people rushed from the train, hugging loved ones and reuniting with cheers and tears of joy. He could see Roy and Riza hugging Maes tightly and meeting Elena, all of them smiling. Less than twenty yards away Sara was locked tightly in an embrace with Franz Heimler, – now a Lieutenant Colonel as well apparently – kissing like there was no one else around them. Of course, given the number of other couples doing the same thing – Alphonse and Elicia included – they might as well be. Alyse hugged her father when Al and Elicia finally parted and Ed wondered if perhaps he had just been forgotten.

He hadn't been expecting Winry. She was still somewhere down in Aerugo, but at the moment he felt lonely. It was stupid of course. What had he expected anyway? He had never been one for overly emotional greetings.

"Dad!" Ethan's head poked through the throng, followed by the rest of Ed's youngest son. There was no hesitation. Even in the crowd, the boy hugged him without any self-consciousness whatsoever.

Ed's arms went around his son and he held on tight. A year apart seemed to melt away in seconds. "You're taller."

"Mom said the same thing," Ethan chuckled.

"She's here?" Ed stepped back, his next comment startled right out of his head.

"Yeah," Ethan smiled. "She got back late last night. You didn't know?"

Ed shook his head. "Communication isn't great lately apparently. Where is she?" If Winry was back in Central, why wasn't she here?

"She hurt her ankle," Ethan explained. "That's why they sent her home. She was really tired last night, so I let her sleep in this morning. She's supposed to stay off her foot."

Injured; wasn't that just what Ed had been concerned about? He scowled, but shook his head. No, it wasn't worth getting pissed off. "Did you get a ride with Elicia?"

Ethan shook his head and grinned proudly. "Nope. I drove the car."

Either his hearing was now going, or Ed had missed more than he realized. "When did you learn to drive?"

"Mom started teaching me before she left," Ethan replied as he grabbed Ed's one rucksack. "Aunt Elicia let me practice a lot."

"Well that's good," Ed flashed a weak smile. "I'll have to thank her for putting her life on the line."

"Hey, I'm a good driver," Ethan countered. "Do you need to go to Headquarters first or do you get to come home?"

"Work first," Ed replied with only mild regret, and a twinge of guilt for not feeling more. He should go home first and talk to Winry, but the coward in him wanted to avoid that conversation as much as his heart screamed to get home as fast as he could. The problem was, he still had no idea what to say. He wasn't prepared to talk to her yet, not when he had thought she was hundreds of miles away. "Duty before pleasure," he added flippantly and grinned.

"Of course," Ethan chuckled. "I can drop you off. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"Nah," Ed shook his head as they headed for the car. "You'll just get bored. I've got reports to hand in, and I should talk to Breda. They've got other people taking care of getting things unloaded and all the menial labor," he smirked. That was good. He wasn't in the mood to detail with those kinds of details.

"Aunt Elicia says that they'll have everyone over for dinner in a day or two when things settle down," Ethan said, keeping up a general flow of pleasant chatter as they got to the car, got in, and headed out of the crowded station towards Central HQ.

"That's nice," Ed replied. He didn't say much else other than to compliment Ethan's driving. On another day he might have joked that having been taught partially by Winry, he was amazed that Ethan was such a safe driver, but right now it didn't seem even remotely funny. His head was too full, and it was easier just to listen to Ethan chat on about school, working with Doc Gray, and about his latest letter from Lia.

It was home, but Ed wasn't sure why things felt so strange.

* * *

Sara was very glad it wasn't a normal workday, even though Central HQ didn't really have weekends with the war on. Her report in was very brief and then she and Franz retreated to her apartment where they could spend a little time _alone._

"Are you sure you'd rather spend your first day home with me than over at your folks' place?" Franz asked; his eyes full of concern as she locked the door behind them.

Sara chuckled softly as she fell into his arms, hugging him tightly once more. "After a year apart, are you really offering to turn down time with me?"

"Well, not really," Franz objected. "I just thought you might want to see your mother and brother more first, and your father of course."

"Right now I think Mom and Dad could probably use a little time to themselves," Sara replied, her good mood souring slightly with worry. "They've both been through a lot lately, and Dad always needs some time to re-center after a long conflict. And Ethan needs them both right now more than I do. Tomorrow's better. Today…and tonight… I want to catch up with you." She kissed him, a soft sweet kiss, less fervent and furious than the first embrace they had shared on the platform.

Franz smiled; content to return the kiss until they parted naturally. "If we try to get completely caught up in one night, I'm likely to pass out from exhaustion."

"Don't tell me you've gone soft while I was away," Sara teased, poking him in the stomach. The flesh underneath was firm and solid, rather the opposite.

"Not particularly," Franz chuckled at her pleased surprise. "There wasn't much to do without you around besides work out and catch up on my reading."

"So your body's gotten better but your eyesight's gotten worse?" Sara asked with a playful smile. She pushed his glasses back up his nose.

Franz chuckled, his warm baritone a welcoming sound that felt like home. "That about sums it up. I can still see how breathtakingly beautiful you are though."

"Now I know your eyes are going," Sara replied. In her dusty, beaten up uniform and a solid day past a good shower, she was hardly anyone's idea of breathtaking, unless they meant the smell of her boots!

"I can always see you clearly," Franz shook his head. "So what do you want first, Belle? Lunch, a nice long hot bath, or a little personal attention?"

"All three, in the opposite order," Sara ran her fingers lightly up his neck as she wrapped her arms around it and stretched up to kiss him again. She wanted to feel alive and loved. She knew one thing for certain now. Franz was home as much as her apartment, or Headquarters, or even her family. As long as she had him she was home.

* * *

After the first unimpeded long hot shower he'd had in months, followed by a home-cooked meal that was so good he thought he might burst afterwards from eating too much, Alphonse was feeling better. Not perfect certainly – far from it – but definitely much better than he had in nearly a year.

The house was as peaceful as when he had left it. The cats hid from him at first, but warmed up again quickly, rubbing up against his legs and begging to be pet before dinner was over. Everything was clean and quiet. It was a disjointed feeling compared to the living conditions he had gotten used to in the jungles and then in the Embassy, but it felt good to be home and his surroundings were comforting and more familiar with each passing minute.

Even his comfortable old pajamas and bathrobe felt strange after so long in uniform, but it was a nice change. After dinner, Alyse left off her happy chattering about everything that had gone on while he was away and slipped up to her room, leaving Al and Elicia snuggled up on the couch, alone for the first time in far too long.

Al sipped a glass of wine and enjoying the feeling of Elicia snuggled up against his side. He could smell the scent of roses from the soap he knew she liked to use. "So you liked the gifts?" he asked.

Elicia chuckled softly. "I already told you I did. Besides, the best gift I could possibly have right now is having you home." She poked him playfully in the side. "What's left of you anyway. Don't they_ feed_ soldiers?"

"Nothing much worth digesting," Al retorted, giving her a squeeze with his arm. "Not compared to the feast we had this evening."

Elicia beamed with pleasure. "Glad to know I haven't lost my touch." She wrapped her arm back around his waist. "I've dreamed so often that you were here, it almost feels like I'm still dreaming."

"Do your dreams include this?" Al asked, grinning as his fingers worked down her shoulder and tickled her under her sweater. Elicia squealed and giggled as she jumped backwards, but couldn't move far because of his arm blocking her path. He put down the empty wine glass and proceeded to tickle her until he had her pinned to the couch and they were both panting too hard to laugh.

Al gazed down into those brilliant green eyes and kissed her deeply, slowly, the playfulness of the moment slipping naturally into something startlingly sensual. Usually Al's sensibilities were tenderer, more refined, but a year without his wife in any capacity made it impossible to resist. Emotions spilled and overflowed, and all the pent up frustration and pain and worry seemed to be pushed away by Elicia's presence. She kissed him back, slowly at first than with the same growing need for closeness, for real human contact.

A woman's touch; the phrase meant something entirely different than it had once in Al's mind. Elicia's hands seemed to heal his emotional wounds – temporarily at least – even as they removed his robe and slid up under the shirt of his light blue flannel pajamas. His heart pounded faster, and Al gave up trying to think. Worrying about what had happened wouldn't change it, and he could barely think coherently the way Elicia so easily pulled high-running emotions from him.

It was only the thought of their daughter possibly coming back downstairs that gave Al the strength of will to briefly break the kiss. "We should… move this upstairs," he suggested, breathing heavily. It was too early in the evening for sleep, but certainly not for the alternative!

Elicia laughed. "It's nice to know some things haven't changed," she chuckled fondly. "If you want to take this someplace more private, you're going to have to get off me."

"Oh, right," Al blushed, then laughed at the absurdity of the moment. What was there to be embarrassed about anyway? They had been married for almost twenty years. He sat up and let Elicia get off the couch. "I'm a little out of practice."

"Well I should hope so," Elicia smirked, and Al felt his face flush again as he realized what she meant. "Don't worry," she smiled more kindly. "So am I. We can get back into practice together."

"It's always easier with a partner you can trust," Al chuckled, standing and kissing her nose just before she turned and headed for the stairs. They could be talking about dancing for all it sounded like, but Al's reactions to Elicia were far from innocent. He followed her willingly, incapable of stopping now – not that he wanted to. He needed her on so many levels.

Elicia winked at him as she vanished around the corner. "It's always better with a partner whose moves you know."

* * *

Edward got home a lot later than he planned. He felt bad but there hadn't been much to do about it. That was why he had told Ethan not to wait for him. It was past dinner time when he walked into the house, hung his uniform jacket on the coat rack beside the door, and tried not to feel like a stranger walking into his own house.

Everything was the same, and yet not quite. It was the little things that threw him. The dining table chairs had been reupholstered, and one of the paintings on one wall had been reframed. There was a new throw rug under the coffee table in the living room in a soft cream and yellow that matched the pale goldenrod yellow that had always been the color of the living room walls. The dark wood was the same, but it looked like it had been polished within the last few months.

"Hello?" he called out when no one greeted him immediately. Out on the deck, he could see Bounce doing just what her named declared as she yapped excitedly and tried furiously to get to him. "I'm sorry I'm late. I couldn't get Brahm to shut up for five minutes." It was then that Ed thought he heard the near-silent sounds of crying. With a frown, he walked the last few feet down the entry way fully into the living room.

Winry stood with her back to the door near the bookshelves, holding something in her hand. It only took Ed a moment – even from a distance – to recognize the letter he had written her when he arrived in Bueáire, barely days before Winry had shown up. Obviously she had never gotten the letter before this. His throat constricted. He remembered every word like he had written it yesterday.

_Dear Winry,_

_We finally made it to Bueáire. I want you to know that, despite some rather bizarre reports you've probably heard, I'm all right. Yeah, I was stupid and got shot. Sorry about that. Fortunately we've got good doctors around here and it was nothing a little alchemy couldn't fix! _

_It's hell out there. I've never seen such brutal fighting. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that you're safe at home where none of this can hurt you, and that you'll be there when I get back, like always. I probably don't say it enough, but I appreciate that. I can never focus on my work when you're in danger, not the way I should. It's bad enough when you're safe, because you're always distracting. _

_I don't know when I'll see you again, but I'm sorry for worrying you. _

_Also, you were right._

_Love,  
Edward _

Ed didn't need the paper in front of him to recall the words, but he wondered which had her crying. "Winry?" She turned slowly, and Ed finally saw the bandage tightly around her right ankle. Ethan had warned him, but seeing Winry hurt struck a raw nerve.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she sniffled, and Ed suspected that if Winry could run, she'd have been in his arms already. "I –"

Well shit. Ed crossed the distance for her, and hugged her, gently though. She looked more breakable than he remembered. He couldn't take seeing her cry. "No I am," he replied softly, his throat so tight he could barely get the words out. "We both know I'm a jerk."

Winry shook her head. "I don't know what came over me in Bueáire, and when you didn't reply to my letter…"

"What letter?" Ed asked. "I never got a letter from you."

"I sent one," Winry replied, looking perplexed and maybe a little relieved. Ed wasn't sure, and the fact he couldn't quite read her emotions when they were clear on her face stung.

"Well it never arrived," Ed replied. "I don't know what happened to it. But it's a war. Stuff happens." He hugged her tighter as she gripped him. "I wasn't sure I'd see you again," he admitted softly.

"You didn't think I could make it in a war zone?" Winry snorted, meeting his eyes. Her expression was clear this time; slightly amused, irritated, and maybe a little hurt.

Ed cringed and averted his eyes. "I…thought you left."

"Left? Why the hell would you think that?" Winry scowled, obviously confused.

"Because that's what you said," he replied, barking even though he hadn't intended to, but he was worn down and he was tired of holding in his temper around everyone he knew. "Or don't you remember? You said you were done waiting at home for me, that you wouldn't do it anymore; never again. Ring any bells?"

"You idiot," Winry glared right back at him. "You really thought I'd _leave?_"

It was then that Ed realized the full magnitude of the mistake he'd made. He'd questioned Winry's motives, her devotion, her love for him, and he'd _assumed_ that she would give up. It wasn't Winry who was at fault here; it was him. "Shit, Winry I… I'm sorry. I panicked! You were so mad at me when I left, and then when you ambushed me in Bueáire I –"

"Ambushed?"

"Bad choice of words." This was not going well at all. "I thought you were safe at home, and then to find out you were out there too, putting yourself in danger and what you said, it just all got jumbled." He looked into her eyes, begging her to understand. Otherwise he might drown in the guilt. "It's a lame excuse but yeah… I thought you were leaving me."

Winry stared at him for so long Ed had to fight not to fidget. Finally she shook her head and sighed. "You're incredible." From her tone, it wasn't a compliment. If anything, she just sounded tired. "I'm not about to leave you, Ed, not even for something as stupid as completely disregarding my feelings on, well, anything involving you running off and leaving me behind."

"Like you going off into a war zone and getting hurt isn't ignoring mine?" Ed snorted, stepping back and dropping his arms from around her. "Or was that just a little turn-about?"

Winry glowered at the caustic remark. "We agreed a long time ago that you don't decide what I do and don't do, Edward Elric. Or have you forgotten that promise?"

"No, I haven't," Ed replied as he moved passed her towards the kitchen. "I'm thirsty. You want something?"

"Then I'd love to know where you get off getting mad at me for doing what I felt I needed to. Isn't that why you do everything you do?" Winry countered, turning awkwardly.

Ed pulled a glass out of the cupboard and went over to the pantry. At least nothing seemed to have changed in the kitchen. He avoided Winry's eyes, the accusation in them. It might be fair, but he didn't have to like it. "No one said the world was fair, Winry." He poured a little scotch in the bottom of the glass and added soda.

She surprised him. "Oh, forget it. Obviously nothing's really changed, has it?" Since when did Winry back down from a fight?

"I guess not," Ed replied neutrally as he sipped his drink. He was so damned tired of hurting someone or something – or somewhere. Right now it was his head and his heart that ached the most.

That was apparently not the right answer. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Edward." A few seconds later Ed heard the sound of crutches on the wood, then going up the stairs. He could hear music in Ethan's room, and the dog still scrambling outside. The world hadn't changed, but he had. Somehow, that didn't seem to have made anything better. Ed downed the rest of the glass in one swallow. He contemplated a second, but decided against, put the bottles away, and let in the dog.

Bounce practically leapt into his arms before Ed crouched down to pet her. "Well at least someone's glad to see me," Ed rubbed her favorite spot behind her ears while the dog's tail wagged frantically.

He couldn't avoid her forever, and he didn't want to. Ed resolved he'd simply have to find a way to make it up to Winry. She was still here. She had _told_ him she wasn't leaving him. So why hadn't that cold, gut-twisting ache inside him gone away?

By the time he got upstairs and showered, Winry seemed to be asleep. It seemed a little like being in his dreams as changed into shorts and a shirt and slid into his place on the bed. The sheets felt crisp, unused. Of course they would be fresh. Winry hadn't been here for months either, but it was mildly unsettling. It reminded him of the linens in the Embassy, or hotels he had stayed at in the past.

Taking the risk, he put out his hand and placed it against Winry's back. It was a small gesture, but something he used to do, a small connection. Winry stirred. "What?" she asked blearily. She really must have been tired to be out cold so early.

Ed swallowed uneasily. "I love you," he replied softly.

It was a long few seconds before Winry shifted again, and Ed was rewarded with a quiet, "I love you, too." Moments later, her even breathing told Ed that she was unconscious.

Only then did he close his eyes and fall asleep.

* * *

Alphonse had thought he would fall asleep quickly, but sleep proved to be illusive. Not that he minded; snuggled up in his own bed with Elicia in his arms the way he had dreamed of for so long. Besides, it was better than the nightmares that awaited him every night.

"Feel better?" Elicia asked with a soft chuckle.

"I don't think I realized how much I needed that," Al admitted, still mildly embarrassed by his lack of control.

Elicia hadn't seemed to mind at all. "Well you _are_ a little more aggressive than you used to be," she teased, her arm resting on his chest.

"I'm sorry," Al apologized. He hoped he hadn't hurt her!  
"Oh don't apologize," Elicia shook her head and kissed his cheek. "You've been through a lot. I know you haven't told me everything yet, but that can wait. I want to be here for you in whatever way you need. If that means helping you forget the world for a little while…"

Al smiled. "You're the expert at that."

"I do my best," Elicia laughed, "Though we should be careful."

Al felt his face go hot. He hadn't even considered the possibility. Elicia was only forty-one. Old enough that he hadn't actually worried about more kids in a few years, but he realized maybe he should have. His _baby girl_ was a teenager; he really wasn't in any hurry to start over! "That would be good."

"Calm down, Alphonse," Elicia shook her head in amusement. "I'm mostly teasing you. How long has it been since you laughed?"

Really laughed? Al honestly couldn't remember. There had been moments of amusement the past year, and sometimes there had been points where it was easier to laugh than cry, but just for happiness? "It's been too long," Al admitted.

* * *

It wasn't jerking awake from the nightmares in the middle of the night that bothered Ed, but the realization that he had smacked Winry in the face in his flailing. "Oh, shit! Winry, I'm sorry." Guilt flared as he watched her rub her cheek.

"It's all right," Winry sighed. She didn't look angry, just disgruntled at having been woken up.

"No it's not," Ed insisted, turning on the light and blinking as he took a look at her cheek, which was already bruising. "That's going to leave a mark."

"Probably." Winry squinted in the light then went to roll over. "It's not a big deal. Go back to sleep, Edward."

"People are going to think I beat you," Ed sighed. "Are you sure you're okay? I can get a compress for it or something…"

Apparently all he was succeeding in doing was irritating his wife. "Sleep, Ed."

"But what if it happens again?" He couldn't leave it there. He hadn't meant to hit her! It had been so long since he had shared a bed, he hadn't even considered that his nightly flailing might be a problem.

"Then I hit you back and we call it even."

"But-"  
Winry turned again and looked at him with an imminent-patience sigh that Ed was sure every mother in the world had perfected. "If it bothers you so much, why don't you just move to the guest room for tonight? The bed's made up in there too."

So he was being kicked out of bed. It was probably for the best. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Winry more than he already had. "All right," he agreed. He crawled out of bed, turned off the light again so she could sleep, and went across the hall.

The guest bed felt even stranger. Ed had passed out on the couch downstairs before. Yet in all the years they had lived here, the last time he had slept in this particular room was when Aldon would get sick as a kid and have trouble sleeping. To say it felt strange would have been an understatement.

Still, a bed was a bed and he couldn't hurt Winry this way if he woke up again. At least he hadn't hit her with the auto-mail arm. That would have been the ultimate insult.

It took Ed a lot longer to fall asleep the second time. His mind was awake, and it refused to let him rest peacefully. Guilt was the primary agitator, but mostly he just couldn't stop thinking about the same things that had plagued him for months. Ed had come home, but he hadn't left the war behind.

* * *

**Author's Note:** And we come to the end of Elrics' direct involvement in the Aerugo War. More stories coming!


End file.
